


Cops and Robbers

by bees_questionmark



Series: Cops and Crooks (A Fake AH Reader Insert Story) [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cop!Miles Luna, Death, Detective!Miles Luna, F/M, FAHC Au, FAHC!Reader, Fake AH Crew, Heists, Kidnapping, Multi, NPC Death, POV Second Person, Reader Insert, Second Draft, Torture, criminals, gta v - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 35,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19103971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_questionmark/pseuds/bees_questionmark
Summary: In the heart of downtown Los Santos, stood a little jazz club called the Sanguine Rose. A little dive bar that was all dolled up into a classy looking joint. You didn’t go to the Sanguine Rose if you valued your life. Inside the fake art deco building, on a stage in front of the dining room, a single spotlight beamed down on a singer. Her curls were pinned tightly to her head. Her dress was much too sexy for the decade the building emulated. She eyes glued to the front door. Waiting. Watching. For something to begin.OrYou are an ex military assassin working with the Fakes, when you accidentally run into a handsome stranger who's life you're about to make significantly more complicated.OrOne year ago, I wrote a Miles x Reader story called Cops and Crooks. As soon as I finished it, I thought, I can do even better. And I am now releasing a second draft of that fic. This fic follows the basic story and plot of the first one, however there will be notable differences, and I think it's written so much better now!





	1. Prologue Part 1

In the heart of downtown Los Santos, stands a little jazz club called the Sanguine Rose. A little dive bar all dolled up into a classy looking joint. You didn’t go to the Sanguine Rose if you valued your life. It was like a time machine for the regulars, back to the golden era of crime. When the mafia was at its heyday, and crime was committed face-to-face. Not behind screens like the youth today.

Inside the fake art deco building, on a stage in front of the dining room, a single spotlight beams down on a singer. Her curls pinned tightly to her head. Her dress much too sexy for the decade the building emulated. Her voice backed up by a piano. A handsome man with long black hair tied back in a pony tail, and wearing a modern suit sat at the keyboard. His baritone voice occasionally accompanying duets.

Both sets of eyes glued to a table in the middle of the crowded smokey room, where two men wait. One of them is a slum lord, renting out properties to poor folk who couldn’t live in the better parts of town, and jacking up rent prices whenever he pleased. The other forces the tenants to buy “Insurance” to keep their homes safe from damage or theft, or they would brake things, like windows and knee caps, until the scared tenant bought the insurance.

The two men watch the door, waiting.

As the singer announces the next song, Someone to Watch Over Me, two men walk in. One in a white and gold suit. Golden sunglasses fixed to his face despite the dimly lit atmosphere. The other tall, dark, and handsome, wearing a nice tux and a winning grin. The pair make a beeline to the center table, placing a suitcase in front of the waiting men.

“Here’s the list you wanted, Love,” the man in the gold suit says, a fading British accent still on his lips. “All the MIA soldiers you could want. Not a one declared dead.”

“Perfect for fake credit cards,” the taller man says.

“Thank you,” the slumlord says taking the suitcase and pulling out the flash drive contained inside. He nudges his Insurance Enforcer who pulls out a laptop to test the information there and then. “We have made a slight change, however, how’s about we pay you cash?”

“No!” a deep voice pierces through clear communicators in their ears. “If they pay you cash, I can’t trace it, and drain their accounts.” Across the street from the Sanguine Rose, a pay-by-the-hour motel.

In room 401 of that motel, a tall man sits hunched over a computer watching security footage from the club, keeping an eye on center table, and keeping an eye out for any other enforcers the slumlord might have brought with him. Standing over him is a man, wearing a rumpled tuxedo and a gaudy mustache, very over-dressed for a motel room, says “Tell them that you’ve had other offers.” 

A short waiter, stops by the center table to take the men’s drink order during the slight pause. The buyers, are quick to dismiss the waiter, but the man in the gold suit asks for a rum and coke, and flashes eyes to the short man. Acting like a shameless flirt. 

“We’ve had other offers, and the price has gone up,” the tall man says after the waiter leaves. “Fifty percent more.”

“Fifty percent!” the slumlord nearly shouts. 

The enforcer puts a hand on his shoulder, “Maybe we should just pay them.”

“They’re crooks! These two are crooks! Upping the price at the deal! I’ve never heard such a thing.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” the man in the gold suit says calmly. “There’s no need to start throwing accusations around, now. If you don’t want to make the deal, we can take our information and go elsewhere.”

The slumlord looks at his computer, and notices that the man in the golden suit had taken the flash drive back while he wasn’t looking. “Fine.” The slumlord isn’t happy with feeling played. He takes out his phone and wires the money to a special account set up for this transaction.

The tall man holds his hand out for a handshake and to hand back over the flash drive, but the slumlord grabs him and yanks him close, and pulls out a knife. 

You, the singer, who had been keeping a close eye on the transaction, ends the song quickly, “My pianist is parched, and I need his voice refreshed for this next song. Can I get a whiskey up here for him?” He doesn’t drink, but only four people in the room know that. Two are at the table with the slumlord. And two waiters, who drop whatever they were in the middle of and rush to the center table, where their boss is being threatened with a knife.

A man with curly, red hair and a baby face steps up behind the slumlord, a knife of his own presses against the slumlord’s back. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the curly-haired man snarls into the land owner’s ear.

You hadn’t been the only ones to bring back up in case the deal went south. An enforcer who’d been hiding in the crowd comes up from behind the Golden Boy. “Gavin!” The short waiter warns. Gavin turns around quickly and ducks out of the way, letting the enforcer attack the table, knocking over several glasses of alcohol.

A bar fight at the Sanguine Rose is nothing unheard of and most patrons remain unfazed to the sudden violence that had erupted in the middle of the dining room. However, the nearby tables had been filled with the slumlord’s goons, making the fight larger than any of you were hoping for.

You and your pianist abandon your post to join the fight and get your boss and grifter out of the club safely. “Fredo!” you yell into your communicator. “Did you get everything you need? Can we try to bail?”

“I drained the account, and the virus should be spreading through the laptop and all attached accounts now,” the man who’d been hunched over the computer tells them as he packs up his kit to get out of the motel ASAP.

“Get everyone out of there now!” The mustachioed man’s voice cracks as he bails with Alfredo. “Jack is already waiting by the front entrance, and Lindsay is out back.”


	2. Prologue Part 2

Michael wrestles until the slumlord lets go of his hostage, who immediately turns around and punches slummy. “Really?” Trevor says. “You attacked me? Do you even know who we are?” He pulls down his tuxedo collar to reveal a star tattoo on his collarbone, and the slumlord’s face goes white.

“No, you can’t be,” slum starts to say, but is cut off by a knife to his throat.

“What the fuck, Treyco! You can’t go around doing that,” Michael yells.

“I like to see the looks on their faces right before you kill ‘em. Sue me,” he says easily before helping Giving escape out the front, leaving the four of you to escape on your own out the back. Everything is going according to plan. Well, not exactly. You are several back up plans down the line. Plan M? You’d gotten down to Plan M. But you were still on a plan, and you hadn’t resorted to Plan Z. In Plan Z, the place goes down in flames.

A deep, female voice breaks through the chaos through everyone’s comms. “Golden Boy, and Treyco are in the clear.” That was the cue for the remaining group to make their way out the back door as fast as possible.

You have one goon in a head lock, holding a knife to his throat when a second goon tackles you from behind. He holds your arms with meaty palms, “You can sing and fight. What a catch.” He turns to the first goon who was rubbing his neck where he almost got an impromptu tracheotomy. “We should take this one home.”

He didn’t get to say anymore before a bullet turns his brain to mush. He collapses where he stood, dumb look permanently fixed to his face, revealing your pianist. Gun smoking. “Thanks, Ry,” you say as he makes quick work of several more goons, the four of you trying to clear a path to the back door.

“Why is everyone so bad at using code names, Viper?” Ryan asks. Sirens sound in the distance, just loud enough to hear over the fight.

“You aren’t wearing your mask. Or face paint. No mask. No Vagabond,” you shoot back at him, barreling through the door.

“You know what?” Ryan starts to say as a black SUV pulled up to the back entrance, and Lindsay throws open the passenger-side door.

“Get in, assholes,” she says.

Michael jumps into the passenger seat, “I love you too, honey.” He pecks her on the cheek while the three of you pile into the back seat.

Lindsay peals out of the alley as fast as possible. Flashing lights starting to appear over the horizon. “Does anyone have an eye on the cops? Fredo?” Jeremy asks.

“We’re on the move, but I’ve still got an eye on the traffic cams,” Alfredo’s voice comes over the comms in everyone’s ears. “They’re coming from the cardinal directions, but if you take the next right, you should be able to get out of their line of sight.”

Before Lindsay can make the next turn, a few bullets ricochet off the heavily armored vehicle. “Fuck,” she breathes. She starts swerving around the road screaming, “Serpentine!” at the top of her lungs. Alfredo mutes her comm line as she swerved onto the road he was leading her toward. A few cop cars follow. “Fredo, you’re going to have to tell me how to lose these cops!”

“You’ve done this a thousand times before,” from the passenger seat.

“Yeah? A little help would be nice, Michael.” She doesn’t snap. There isn’t any venom in her voice, but she is definitely speaking with a sense of urgency.

Fredo gives her instructions to an underpass with a secret tunnel to the pier that he would be waiting in.

“Yes, sir.” Lindsay drives as fast and recklessly as she could without killing her passengers.

“Ry, seriously though,” you say once the silence got too much for your adrenaline racked brain. “Thanks.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. But I’d be out of a job if I didn’t have your ass to save all the damn time,” he responds.

“Hey!” You smack his arm. “I can take care of myself!”

“Maybe so,” he winks. “But you sure know how to get yourself in trouble, and I have to drop everything to help you.”

“I didn’t serve this country, for eight years for you to think I’m some helpless woman!”

“You deserted the army to be a killer for hire. Hardly serving this country.” You roll your eyes; you didn’t usually let people talk to you like he did. In fact, you’d killed men for less, but he was your best friend, and he knew he could get away with anything.

A sharp turn sends both you and Ryan flying into Jeremy. “We all get into trouble. A lot. Have you met ‘Damsel-in-distress’ Gavin?” Jeremy says once he climbs his way out from under two assassins.

“People sure think he’s an easy target,” you laugh.

“That’s because he is an easy target,” Michael says from up front. “And he thinks he’s invincible. Lil J, I don’t know how you deal with him all the time.”

Jeremy’s whole head turns a deep red. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Oh yeah,” Michael rolls his eyes. “Just good chums.”

Jeremy looks like he wants to say more, but another sharp turn has everyone’s attention back on Lindsay, who has, so far, successfully lost the cops. Which is great because you were nearing the underpass and secret alleyway where you would meet Geoff and Alfredo.

Everyone in the car was silent, listening for sirens, while Lindsay creeps down the alley, watching the odometer, and looking for Geoff’s dark green car that they were somehow going to squish into.

Alfredo is waiting, leaning on the hood of the car, to flag them down, and help them up the sloped walls. You and Ryan unscrew the license plates from the SUV before scaling the walls to join the group. Everyone piles into the car, which was not made for seven adults, but they make do. Michael sits in his wife’s lap. Jeremy is squished into the door while you and Ryan are sandwiched in the middle.

Jeremy yells in excitement as Geoff pealed away, and pulls a flare gun out of God-knows-where and shoots it out of the window. There are no more cops on their trail, and they were in the clear to head to the garage, split the money, and go their separate ways to lie as low as they knew how until the next job.


	3. Slipped through our fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The officers at the station after letting the Fames slip through their fingers

“You had the Fakes, right there!” Chief Haddock yells. His higher ups were breathing down his neck trying to get the Fake AH Crew off the streets, and clean up the town. He was at his wits end. “And they got away?!”

A room full of officers, and not one willing to look their Chief in the eye, most preferring to stare at the beige carpeting. “They’d hacked into the traffic cams and could see every unit, and how to avoid them,” Detective Shawcross speaks up. He had been on the case from his desk. Being one of the men behind the scenes, trying to help orchestrate the capture.

“I want answers, not excuses.” Haddock says before storming into his office and slamming the door shut behind him, leaving the room full of officers and detectives in an awkward silence as they made their way back to their desks.

The cramped office required detectives and officers to share a floor of the building. They need a whole floor for holding. This isn’t what you would call a good area of Los Santos. The kind of district with a very high crime rate, and very poorly funded public works. The two issues were sides of the same coin. However, this district is also home of the notorious Fake AH crew making it even more dangerous to keep the streets safe. They kill or torture anyone who even remotely got in their way.

“Why does the commissioner get so pissed at Haddock for not getting the Fakes?” Shawcross’s partner, Cole asks. “They’ve been running the streets for 10 years. Long before Haddock was chief.”

“You know how politics go,” Kyle says from the other side of the room. “The mayor or governor or someone promised to get them off the street, and now it's our job to actually do their dirty work.”

“The Commissioner was the Chief of this district when the Fakes went from being just another group of pick-pockets to running the streets,” Kyle’s partner, Miles, says without looking up from his screen. “So it could be personal.” Miles was looking to be the Chief and, someday, Commissioner, and keep the city safe.

“It’s still not fair to put all this on Haddock, and then not even give us more resources to catch em,” Kerry says.

“I wasn’t saying anything about fairness,” Miles chuckles. “Knowing why someone does something, doesn’t mean you’re excusing it.”

“They always lay low for at least a few days after a big job, so we have time to recoup now,” Kyle says hovering over Miles’ desk, too much pent up energy from the last several hours to do desk work for the next several. 

They’d gotten close this time. They had a bartender planted at the Sanguine Rose who’d tipped them off as soon as Gavin and Trevor walked in, but they still couldn’t get there in time.

“We will never take down the Fakes, until we take down their hackers,” Miles says. “They always see us coming from a mile away.”

Kyle just smiles at him. “A mile away?” He laughs.

“Look, it’s already an expression!” Miles defendd.

“Still.” Miles shoved Kyle back to his desk.

Miles rolls his eyes, “Am I ever going to be able to say that word without you jumping on me about it?”

“Probably not, but I could change the subject and ask about your date last night.”

“Smooth transition, KT,” Miles says without actually answering the question.

“Sooooo, buddy? How’d it go?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t show up.”

“Aww, dude, I’m sorry.”

“That’s the gamble with dating apps, I guess. Not everyone is as lucky as you.”

“I did get lucky, didn’t I?” Kyle laughs.

“I think I’m gonna take a break from all that stuff. Learn to be comfortable by myself or something.”

“I get it.”

They sit in silence finishing up the paperwork about the failed bust, with only the buzzing of the lights, and the ringing in Miles’ ears, filling the air.

The precinct’s number one priority is catching the Fakes. Every other problem is pushed to back burners. It makes doing any sort of normal police-work difficult. They can’t go after normal crimes or robberies if they aren’t related to the gang. They aren’t out watching the traffic, keeping the speeds down and the streets safe. If they can’t connect their work to the Fakes, then Chief Haddock couldn’t afford to let them go after it. His neck is on the line.

The air in the room is heavy and stung with stress. Not a single officer wants to stay later than their shift, if they weren’t following a lead. Miles and his friends were no exception. As soon as the hour struck, they were out of that building, into the cool early morning air. 

“I’m going home, and passing out for three days,” Kerry says going to his car. “I’ll see you assholes on Monday.”

“Oh, rub your weekend in more, why don’t ya?” Kyle yells after him heading to his own car.

Cole flips Kerry off, the only one to get the weekend off.

“I fucking know,” Miles laughs. “I have to be back here in 10 hours, and I have to find time to go grocery shopping, too.”

“Are you finally listening to me? No more fast food everyday?” Kyle excited stands outside his car, hand on the door.

“Look, my wallet just couldn’t take any more time without meal planning.”

“I think I’m wearing off on you!”

“Sure, I’ll let you think that.” Miles gets in his car to fight the morning traffic back to his apartment and pass out in his uniform on his second-hand mattress to try to fight away dreams of grifters, hackers, and assassins slipping just out of his reach over and over again. A messy, but manicured mustache laughing at him. Jazzy piano mocking him. A restless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to post this last week, but the week got away from me. I’ll still post the next chapter tomorrow or the next day, but I may split it up into 2 shorter, more readable chapters


	4. Egg on your face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When grocery shopping, you run into a cute stranger.... literally.

The Fakes aren’t always very good at laying low for very long. It was the issue with too many chaotic beings in one gang, but that’s also the reason they haven’t been caught yet. They can’t find a pattern, if there aren’t any. 

But you can actually keep yourself quiet when you need to. You love dicking around as much as the next guy, but you were taught discipline in the army that most of the crew lacked. It was part of their brand, but you need some people to do their jobs and make sure everyone comes back with at least most of their limbs intact.

That is to say, you were usually good at keeping prying eyes away from you. So you were very thrown out of your element in the dairy aisle of your grocery store, covered in broken eggs, with a tragically attractive stranger, mortified, apologies tumbling out of his mouth like he didn’t know how to say anything else. You had been checking a carton of eggs for cracks. You had stopped paying attention to your surroundings for one minute, until your cart crashed into you causing eggs to go flying.

“I’m so sorry,” says the man behind the cart that had crashed into yours, mouth agape at the mess he’d caused.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. Both frozen. Rattled. Dumbfounded. Other synonyms of embarrassed. “Ha.” An empty laugh escapes your lips. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, really,” he puts his hands up, insistent. “I should have been paying more attention.”

You just want to divert attention. You don’t need any strangers looking at your face or recognizing you.

“I can’t let you stand there with egg on your face,” he winks. “Let me buy you a coffee or something to make up for my being an idiot.”

Oh no, you thought. “That was bad,” you laugh. “You owe me a drink for that bad line.”

Worst case scenario, this is a trap, and you’d end up in a ditch somewhere. Realistic worst case scenario, bad date with pun guy. He doesn’t seem threatening despite his towering stature. Easily six foot. Clearly fit, if a bit soft. Puppy dog, brown eyes no sane person could say ‘no’ to.

“Miles,” he offers his name and hand. “Miles Luna.”

You smile and give him the alias you’ve been going by lately, the one the crew knows you as. You’ll take your real name to your grave. 

“There’s a coffee shop at the front of the store?”

His smile is contagious. You’d heard that phrase your whole life, but you’ve never actually seen that in real life. Sure, Gavin had a knack for making a mark trust him with just a smile, but he’s a grifter. That’s his job, it’s not a real smile. But you? You had never been on the receiving end of a smile so… so genuine.

You abandon your cart. Shopping could wait. When was the last time you were even on a date? Have you even been on a date since you moved to Los Santos? Like a real serious date? You tend to dive too deep into your work and neglect your social life outside the crew.

The coffee shop name is some terrible pun, that neither of you really understood, written on the sign above the register in a hipster font that was hard to read. You order your preferred beverage, and Miles orders an Iced Mocha, extra whip. The barista makes a joke about the order. It seems like loving bad puns was a prerequisite to work there.

He pays for your drinks, and you two sit down in a booth waiting for your names to be called. Normally, when you did go on dates, you would offer to split the check, or pay because you knew how much you made as an assassin would probably outweigh most legal careers, but he was paying you back for the egg that’s drying to your skin. You’ve wiped most of it off on your walk to the front of the store, but some of it wasn’t coming off without scrubbing.

The café isn’t busy, and the prices on the menu explain why. “So,” you say when the drinks arrive, “Is there any coffee in there with your sugar?”

“Hey!” He chuckles, “I’m not going to pretend to like my coffee black to seem macho to make you like me.”

You blush. He was a refreshing breath of air in the Los Santos smog. He seems honest, almost to a fault. You know you could never reciprocate that level of honesty, and the realization settles in your stomach like ice. You take a silent breath. There was nothing you can do about that now. 

You’ve been staring at Miles for a few seconds in silence, and take a sip of your drink. It had been a very long time since you’d been tongue tied around a handsome guy. 

“So, how do you like to spend your time?” you ask.

Miles sits back in his seat bringing his drink with him. The whipped cream long gone and stuck to his beard, which you thought is too endearing to point out and embarrass him.

“I spend too much time at work, but that’s, like, the most boring answer, isn’t it? I love to play video games when I find a spare moment.” He runs a hand through his curly, brown hair.

“Oh, what kind of video games?”

“I mean I’m still having fun messing around in Red Dead 2. I’m also trudging through the remake of Resident Evil 2 I didn’t play it when it first came out, so you know.”

“We couldn’t afford any games when I was a kid, so I got my first console at sixteen. It was the first thing I bought when I got my first paycheck,” and the rest went to paying your mother’s bills, you add silently. She wanted you to be happy, but she also needed the help.

“What was your first game then?”

“It was Mario Kart, on an old refurbished GameCube. The one where you had two riders in your kart. Double Dash? Yeah, Double Dash.”

“Still the best Mario Kart.”

“I agree, but I may be a little biased.” You both laugh. 

“We have to get together and race sometime.”

“That would be awesome! But as a fair warning, I get competitive.”

The conversation lead naturally down tributaries of topics. You find out he hadn’t seen your favorite terrible movie. It was a classic to you. A torture you made sure to put all new friends through. One of those movies with the impending storm that will destroy the Earth, but for some reason can only be stopped by one man using some lasers or something. There’s even one part where they just didn’t CG the storm into the chase scene. It was amazing.

“You have to come over and watch it with me! I have it on disc, and,” you lean forward batting your eyes like you were about to say the sexiest thing ever, “I provide my own commentary.”

That rose a chuckle out of Miles before he responds, “That sounds magical. I actually studied film before I figured out what I wanted to do.”

“That’s so cool!” You purposefully don’t press further about what he did. Don’t get too attached, you tell yourself, we’re just having a spot of fun.

Your cup is long since emptied, but you couldn’t bring yourself to bring an end to this impromptu date. Miles brings up his favorite TV show. Some crime show. “It’s the one about an undercover cop infiltrating the biggest gang in the city. By the end of the pilot he somehow became best friends with the boss.”

You’ve heard of it. The lads loved getting together and making fun of it, every week. Everyone else joined in occasionally, you included. “Yeah, it’s a comedy, right?”

“It’s so unrealistic. It’s like the writers have never talked to cops before,” he laughs.

“Or criminals, or humans. Sometimes, I think TV writers are actually aliens who haven’t spent much time on Earth yet.”

“The best part, is that one of my friends works on the show.”

“Not a writer, right?”

“No,” he chuckles, “not a writer.”

“Thank god.”

“He’s, like, a few steps above intern.”

“That’s really cool. It’s a difficult industry.” Despite how intertwined the history of Los Santos was with the film industry, you don’t really know anyone who worked in film. You know plenty of actors, but the screen isn’t exactly their forte.

Your phone buzzes and lights up with a coded text from the crew, which causes Miles to check his phone and realize how late it had gotten.

“I have to go,” you both say in sync. 

You sit unmoving in your seat, staring. Hoping to drag out this last moment before Miles breaks the silence. “Let me give you my number,” he holds out his hand for your phone, waiting for you to hand it over.

You open up your contacts and pull up a new one before handing him your phone to put his number in. You make a mental note of his number in case you have to burn this phone. You text his phone so he could have your number, and he sends a selfie back. “For your contacts,” he winks, then looks at his clock again. “Ok, I’ve got to go for real now.” You give him a little wave as he rushes out of the grocery store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I lied. It’s one long chapter. What do you think your crew got up to while y’all were supposed to be lying low??


	5. Trouble Laying Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lads and Vagabond have a hard time laying low, and learn a lesson the hard way about why they should listen to their boss and follow the rules. At least some of the rules.

The sun is high in the sky as you pull out your cellphone, running to your motorcycle despite the midday heat. “Gavin!” You bark into the mic as soon as he picks up. “What, pray tell, the fuck did you guys get into that I have to come bail your asses out of?”

“Hello, it’s nice to hear from you too,” he answers, faux calm in his voice over the sounds of yelling through the speaker.

“Hi, Gavin.” You mimick his faux smile, to the point that any passersby might question your stability. “It’s always nice to check in with my friends.” The smile fades into the scowl you felt as you mount your bike. “What, the fuck, did you guys do that you have to call me in on my day off?”

“Oh, well, um, you see,” he waffles about. An explosion sounds through your speaker.

“Who’d you pull into this shit with you? You don’t blow things up.”

“I can blow things up just fine!” He squawks, but behind his indignation, other voices were yelling. Familiar voices. Crew voices.

You finally pull a location out of Gavin. As you speed down the highway, before you end the call, you nearly hit some asshole on the road going the speed limit, like some kind of rube. “And couldn’t you guys have waited to do something stupid when I was on call, and had a fucking comm, so I don’t have to drive my bike one handed?” You weave around and between cars and swerve several lanes over to make your exit.

“You had better have a good explanation for this mess when I get there.” You yell without waiting for a response from you previous rhetorical question, and then promptly hang up on him.

You pull off the exit and come across a smoking pile of rubble that had once been a convenience store. Next to the pile of rubble are some familiar faces.

“I didn’t even get invited to the mayhem, and I gotta bail you out of it,” you huff as soon as you cut your engine and they could hear you. Three lads. One still holding explosives even with the sound of sirens slowly approaching from a distance.

“Oh, you know,” Michael says, with a trademark noncommittal shrug.

“Well,” Jeremy starts. “We didn’t exactly plan this. It, uh, just kinda happened.”

“I don’t have a sidecar.” You say. “I don’t know how the fuck you guys thought I could get you out of here.”

The flashing lights were just barely visible in the gridlock streets of Los Santos, and the sirens quickly getting louder and louder as you stand there, straddling your bike. 

“Look, I got the cash,” Michael says. “I’ll hop on the bike with V, and you two can take the bike I stashed around the corner.” He wastes no time jumping on your definitely-not-made-for-two-people motorcycle, and throwing his last charge at the pile of rubble. “You guys got 45 seconds to get away before that thing goes off.” He chuckles and you took your cue to speed away.

“You better hope the cops don’t catch us. I’m not packing right now.” You yell back to him over your motor as you fly past cars again on your way back to the penthouse.

“Don’t you worry about a thing.” He yells in your ear. “I am.” He loosens his grip on you with one arm, presumably reaching for the gun he’s carrying. Just in case, you know. 

You really hope one of the higher ups are going to be at the penthouse, so you wouldn’t have to be the adult and lay into them about how fucking dumb they were being. You hated being the adult.

One cop car that hadn’t been in the fleet trying to get you at what used to be a convenience store, sees you flying by on the road, and turns on his flashers. Probably assuming you were just some young idiots, like, drag racing or something on the highway.

What he probably wouldn’t assume is Michael taking out his front tires with the pistol he was waving around like a madman behind you. Tires are the easiest target, and quickest results on cop cars. You guys had all done plenty of field testing on that one. 

You pull off the highway, and pointedly don’t beeline toward the penthouse. You go in a few wrong directions in case anyone was watching, you want to confuse before you finally pull into the garage below Geoff’s penthouse.

Back in ye olden early days of the Fake AH Crew, when there were only the main six members, everyone lived here all together, each with their own room. But the crew grew, and Michael and Lindsay got married and moved out. Michael unsurprisingly wasn’t cleaning up after everyone’s shit anymore, and Geoff and Jack certainly weren’t going to.

Ryan moved out on his own to keep his spooky aura of mystery, at least for the new hires. It was far too late for him to seem imposing to the rest of you. He’d given up on that a while ago.

Gavin and Jeremy are roommates in a “bachelor pad.” Now, just the leaders live in the penthouse. Geoff and Jack share a room, and everything else they own. And Trevor has his own space to actually lead the crew. Geoff is still the figurehead leader. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make and that Trevor never asked for. He surmised that the crew could still carry on without its founder, but not as easily without its leader. He was underestimating how important he was to everyone, but there was no convincing him otherwise.

The two of you ride the elevator to the top floor, where it lets out directly into the penthouse. And Jack is sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen scrolling on her phone. Michael relaxes as she seemed like she wasn’t paying attention to him.

Michael tries to walk past her, but she speaks up, “You know.” She starts thoughtfully not looking up from her screen. “It’s funny. I’m sitting here on my phone. And what do I see in the news? Someone blew up a convenience store. All the rumors are saying that it was the Fake AH Crew wreaking havoc. But that can’t be right. My crew is supposed to be lying low after that big and risky job at the Sanguine Rose. Yesterday. And I know they would never defy my orders. Not after less than 24 hours. Right?” She finally turns to face Michael and look him in the eye. 

Michael’s frozen in place. You stand by the elevator entrance with your arms crossed over your chest. He dropps the bag of cash in front of her like an offering.

She opens the bag, and counts. “So, you blew up a convenience store, and risked getting caught by the police, or the people we pissed off yesterday, for fourteen hundred bucks?”

“It was Gavin’s fault!” Michael immediately on the defensive.

“And, yet, you still were there, and still helped blow up the building,” she seems so calm. So uncaring. Which was scarier than any rage she could have flown into. 

Michael sulks off, having disappointed Mom enough. You start to walk past her. “You aren’t off the hook either,” she says.

“I just showed up after the fact to bail them out.”

“I saw the crazy motorcyclist speeding down the highway on the news, too.”

Your turn to be sheepish doesn’t last very long as both of your phones start to ring. A group video chat. Jack answers, and Gavin’s face shows up on the screen. “They got ‘im! He’s gone!” He shouts hysterically to the camera. “They got Jeremy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such a love of chapter to chapter cliff hangers, and this is such a great medium for them to really shine. When will we find out who's got Jeremy? And what do they want with him? I really love the Jack that does do crazy shit with them, but I also really love this cold and scary mother Jack. Do you guys like Jack? Which Jack do you like? Mom-friend Jack? Or just as purposefully stupid as the rest of the crew Jack?


	6. Terrible Station Coffee and Unsubstantiated Rumors

Miles rushes out of the store, and onto the road to his apartment fighting the ever-present Los Santos traffic. It doesn’t matter what time of the day, the roads are grid locked. He may as well invest in a bike, he thinks idly as someone on a motorcycle flies past at dangerous speeds he couldn’t do anything about out of uniform. 

He doesn’t even have time to shower when he gets home, just changes into his uniform and runs back out the door to the station. He really should just keep an extra uniform at the station so he wouldn’t have to stop at his dingy apartment, and risk running late.

And he is definitely running late today. While sitting back in the gridlock to the station, his mind keeps wandering back to the coffee shop and your enticing eyes. The way they lit up when you’d gotten excited about your favorite movie. He finds himself sitting by himself in his car stuck in stand-still traffic, smiling. 

When he finally makes it to the station, he is greeted by his partner, “Where the hell have you been?”

Miles glances at the clock on the wall behind Kyle. “Dude, I’m only, like 5 minutes late.”

“Which is five minutes later than you’ve ever been before!” Kyle retorts as the two took their seats behind their desks. 

“So, what has you stumbling into work this late?” Cole chimes in without waiting for Miles to say anything back to Kyle.

“I got caught at the grocery store, and then traffic was a fucking nightmare,” Miles huffs as he logs onto his computer. “Can y’all get off my dick now?” He spits with no real venom. Usually Miles is the first to start the ragging when he wasn’t on the receiving end. 

Finishing up the paperwork from their failure at the Sanguine Rose, the conversation drifts away from accusations and toward the underground rumor mill. Since their CO is so focused on the Fakes, those are the rumors they care about more. Even the fake rumors because there is either a hint of truth in the lies, or the lies are so spectacularly fake that they turn from being helpful to just plain hilarious. 

There are plenty of long-standing rumors that many took as fact. Like, that the Golden Boy is probably not in this country legally. They don’t have anything to back it up, so it stayed a rumor, but many a cop and civilian took it to heart and treat it as real. How he got to this country was a whole other matter. There are arguments saying he was a criminal across the pond and fled here to escape the British government, only to stumble into the biggest crime syndicate this side of the Mississippi. Others argue that he’d come here legally or as a simple civilian, and turned to a life of crime only after arriving on US soil. No one could know for sure without more evidence or possibly asking the Golden Boy himself.

Others even thought the Golden Boy could be Ramsey’s son. “Don’t be an idiot,” Kerry says at Kyle for bringing it up. “The Kingpin’s American.”

“First, I was just saying I read it online,” Kyle defends. “Second, maybe his mom’s British or something and he grew up there. Or, or. Or!” He fumbles around trying to make a better connection. “Or he’s, like, adopted or something?”

“That’s speculation!” Cole bites back.

“That’s what rumors are!” Kyle yells. 

“That’s about as bad as, last week, when someone told me Rimmy Tim used to be in the circus as an acrobat,” Miles chuckles.

“Oh,” Cole says. “I did read something about how their heists are all a little bit different now starting a few months ago. Some super fan was digging in to their plans for heists over the last year. There was a noticeable change sometime, I think, six months ago.

“So, basically, they were saying that they think there’s a new leader of the Fakes, and that Ramsey isn’t actually running things anymore, but that someone else has taken over the crew.”

“That’s crazy talk,” Kyle says. “Ramsey would never let anyone else take over. He’s the most powerful man in Los Santos.”

“No one else will lead that crew until Ramsey is six feet under,” Miles says.

“Why is Ramsey still around then? Why would he fake being the leader of his own gang? That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” Kyle says.

“I don’t know, the person online seemed very knowledgable and persuasive. It made sense when I read it.” Cole stands up to refill his coffee. “Anyone want some while I’m up?” He waves his mug around so his friends knew what he was talking about.

“I’m good,” Kyle gestures to his mostly full cup. “So, do you think Avril Lavigne is a clone, too?”

“Hey! That’s been proven fake now.” Kerry defends. “Also, yes to coffee, four sugars.”

Miles rolls his eyes at the rumors and his friends arguing about them. When Cole nudges him offering coffee, he shakes his head, and they all turned to look at him. Their eyes blink in shock. 

“Who are you? And what have you done to my best friend?” Kyle asks at the same time as Kerry asks, “Are you trying some new ADD meds or something?”

“I had some coffee earlier. I just need to wait a little bit before I have some more.” He’s just about finished with the paperwork from yesterday. 

“But you always wait for our terrible, but free, station coffee,” Kyle says.

“Why am I under a microscope today?”

“I mean, if you didn’t want to be under a microscope when you’re acting weird, you shouldn’t have gone into a field where your coworkers analyze patterns of behavior for a living,” Cole says placing Kerry’s cup of coffee next to his keyboard.

“You’re right, but I don’t like it,” Miles squints his eyes at Cole.

“So, what coffee shop did you finally decide deserved your hard earned cash?” Kyle asks.

“Oh, you know that hipstery one in the front of the grocery store near my apartment? Used to be a Starbucks? Isn’t anymore for some reason.”

“That really expensive one that you said you’d never seen anyone buy anything from?” Kerry confirms.

“The one you said you thought was some sort of criminal front?” Kyle continues to confirm.

“Yeah, that one.”

The three interrogators look at each other for a beat before turning back to Miles and asking, in unison, “Who is she?” Except Kerry asks, “Who are they?”

“What?”Miles turns red, and chokes on his suddenly dry throat. “I don’t know what y’all are on about. There wasn’t anybody. I got coffee while I was grocery shopping.”

“Methinks he doth protest too much,” Cole accuses.

“And me thinks-” Miles starts before Chief Haddock stepped out of his office, yelling. “What are you doing sitting around here? 

Miles and Kyle scramble to get to the cruiser to patrol around town. Chilling at a speed trap on the highway with a radar gun, Kyle brought up mystery girl again. 

“Are you gonna see her again?”

“I mean, there aren’t any plans, but I got her number.”

“Sweet!” Kyle yells grabbing Miles’ phone from the cupholder opening up to the contacts page with your info still up, and he reads your name out loud. “Dude, no contact picture? How can I know if she’s good enough for you?” 

“Oh? You can do that from one photo?”

“I’m good at my job.”

“Being a cop? Or a pain in my ass?”

“Ha. Very funny,” his face serious to emphasize his sarcasm. “But seriously, do you want me to run a background check on the name?”

“You sure know how to be romantic, KT.”

“I’m sorry for not wanting my best friend dating a serial killer.”

“She’s not a serial killer.”

“You don’t know that!”

Just then a motorcycle flies past, and Miles turns on the sirens to follow them. The driver is wearing a helmet, but the second person on the bike isn’t. Which is ridiculously dangerous at the speed they were going. Miles tries to keep up with them, until the passenger pulls out a handgun and shoots out their tires.

Great. Another day of amazing police work under his belt. Haddock is gonna be so pissed when they get back to the station in a tow truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the writing the cops more now than I did last time. I really wanted to like these parts the first time but I was always so stuck on what to write. Do y'all have things you really want to write but when it comes to actually writing it you just feel like you're pulling teeth? I also really like how much you and Miles keep passing by each other without knowing.


	7. All Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the Fakes. We gotta get Jeremy back, who knows what they're doing to him!

“Who got Jeremy?” Jack urges into the phone.

“I don’t know!” Gavin screams back through tears.

“Did the cops get you?” You say over Jack’s shoulder. 

“No, not the cops! A dark van.”

“Shit!” Jack yells loudly enough to summon Geoff and Trevor from the conference room. “This is why you guys were supposed to fucking lay low!”

“What’s going on? What happened?” Geoff rushes over to the kitchen grabbing Jack’s phone.

“We pissed someone off yesterday, and these idiots decided to blow up a building today and get Jeremy fucking kidnapped.”

“The slumlord got Jeremy?” Trevor asks.

“That’s my best guess,” Jack says.

“I thought we killed him,” Trevor says.

“He must have been in someone’s pocket higher up, who didn’t like that we robbed him of the slums and a few goons,” Geoff says.

“Gavin,” Trevor turns to the phone. “Get back to the penthouse. We need to group up to make a plan to take care of this.”

“Yes, sir,” Gavin hangs up.

“V,” Trevor turns to you. “Call Ryan, and get him here.” You nod and pull out your phone. “Michael!” He yells loud enough for Michael to hear him from his hidey-hole. “Conference room in 30!” 

Michael scrambles to the living room, “And call Lindsay,” Geoff adds. “We’re gonna need all hands on deck here.” 

While you’re on the phone with Ryan, you hear Trevor call Fredo, to get on the traffic cams.

~~~~~

Fifteen minutes later, everyone is in the conference room. Everyone. You didn’t know it even could hold this many people.

“I think everyone here knows that Rimmy Tim has been kidnapped,” Trevor starts off the emergency meeting. “Our number one suspect is Bram Pruitt. He owned the slumlord we conned yesterday. There is a long list of people who would want to kidnap Lil J, or any of us, however this man is our top priority.”

Alfredo speaks up next when Trevor gestures to him. Alfredo pulls up some images onto the screen at the front of the room. “I tried to trace back the path the van took, but some of the traffic cams had been hacked and had been set to record on a loop. Which means this was planned before-hand.

“I found the van again here,” he switches to the next picture, “going to this alley behind Shenanigan’s Bar. Since I lost the van for some time, and there aren’t any cameras facing in to the alley, I have no confirmation that they still had Lil J at this point, but I think the bar is still worth checking out.”

Ryan speaks up, “We know that’s a criminal owned bar. Do you think the bar is in Pruitt’s pocket?”

“As far as we can tell, they’re allies. That’s why we met in neutral ground at the Sanguine Rose yesterday. I don’t know if he owns it. It’s definitely owned by a shell company, like ours,” Fredo answers.

“I think what we need to do is send a few under covers to the bar tonight to scope the place out, check around. We are out our best grifter, since they saw him when they kidnapped Lil J, and I’m not taking the chance they remember his face,” Trevor says.

Before Trevor could say any more, Geoff’s phone rings. No number shows up on the dark screen. Just the words ‘Unknown Caller’. He nods at Alfredo, who frantically pulls out his laptop, and shoots a thumbs up before Geoff answers. “Go,” was all Geoff says.

“All business with the Fakes, huh? I like it.” The voice on the other end of the phone is gravelly, and harsh, but not distorted in anyway. The mark of a scarily confident man. Untouchable, just like their own Kingpin. “You took out my best landlord. So, I thought I’d return the favor. Except, unlike you, I’ll give you a chance to get him back. There was $750 million in that account you drained. I want it back, and I also want the list. The names you were selling. That’s all I need and you can get your enforcer back. This is a very generous deal. I wouldn’t do anything to fuck this up. I want the money in my account by midnight, and then we can discuss how I’ll get the list, and how you can get your kid back.” He hangs up after monologuing. 

Geoff slams his phone on the table. “Fredo, could you trace that?”  
“The location kept pinging around. As soon as I’d trace it, it would move.”

“Fucking dicks!” Geoff yells and storms out of the room to cool off.

The harshly lit conference room stood silent as Geoff slams the door behind him. After a beat of eerie quiet, Trevor speaks up. “Viper, Vagabond, you two are our best makeup artists. I’m going to need you two in disguise at the club. You’re both going to lead from inside. I’ll be here watching over you as best I can. However, they have much higher security than the Rose did, so I can’t guarantee an eye in the sky, like we usually do. But, Viper, I know you have tactical training.” You and Ryan nod. 

“Lindsay, Jack, you weren’t in the club yesterday,” Trevor turns to the other side of the table where the two ladies sit on either side of Michael. “So no one should know your faces. I want you two to back them up. I want this to be a small discrete operation, and I need it done before midnight.”

Trevor dismisses everyone else from conference room. The B team has specific jobs for everyone during missions, so they all know where they were going to be. Whether they are watching the outside of the Bar, or listening to the police scanner, or sterilizing a surgical unit in the basement in the likely chance something goes wrong and someone needs immediate attention when they get back to base. 

Geoff owns most of the building, and while only Geoff, Jack, and Trevor still live there, it’s the most common base of operations during crew work. 

The four of you that are still in the conference room stare at Trevor, waiting for further orders. “We need to know if Jeremy is there. Look for any secret rooms. or a basement.” He gave Ryan, Jack, and Lindsay orders. “Ryan, I want you at the bar, or wherever you can get the best vantage point to keep an eye on these three and watch for trouble.

“Lindsay, I need you to be obnoxiously drunk, but not too much that you get kicked out. And you know I mean acting. No actual alcohol.

“Jack, you are the getaway. Keep an ear out for trouble and make sure everyone gets out alive and unharmed as best as you can.”

“I know the bar has live entertainment. Viper, I want you to be the live entertainment to get access to backstage. I don’t care if you have to kill the band, I need you to get back stage.”

You all nod in understanding, as you make your way out of the conference room to get ready to steal a bar, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You check your phone to find a text from Miles.

“Hey, I just got off work, and was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me tomorrow?” You send a quick affirmative back. Even with the stress and fear for your friend, you couldn’t help but crack a smile just seeing his name on your screen.

“What has got you smiling, champ?” Lindsay comes up from behind you and whispers in your ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I like this story line so much better than my original. So much less passive. Even less passive in the upcoming chapters. I'm excited to figure out how to fit some important scenes I loved from the first one into this one. Also, I'm realizing how much my writing is a mess of tenses, like I keep switching back and forth between present and past tense. Should this be written in present or past tense? What do you prefer?


	8. Shenanigans

“What has got you smiling, champ?” Lindsay comes up from behind you and whispers in your ear.

“It’s nothing. Really.” You couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off your face.

“Oh, right,” she says super convinced. “You always just smile to yourself. Especially while one of your crew has been kidnapped. I see. You might be crazier than Ryan.” 

Ryan overhears and acts offended, “Hey, leave me out of whatever is going on over there!” 

Lindsay peeks at your phone. “It’s a guy! You’re talking to a guy?” She says louder than she intends, but everyone else is already in the zone focusing on the undercover operation. 

You shush her.

“In all the years I’ve known you, I have never seen you talk to anyone outside of the crew or a job.”

“Fine,” you huff, “I met a guy earlier today while grocery shopping.”

“And you gave him your number? He must be a real special guy.” 

“I think so.”

Trevor spots you two standing around talking. “I don’t mean to be rude,” he interrupts, “but we’re in kind of a rush here.”

You both nod and scurry away. You run to one of the bedrooms that would likely have some disguises for you. You have to dress differently than your normal aesthetic. As Viper, you normally dressed like you part of a motorcycle gang. Leather jacket, thick denim jeans. Protective kind of clothing. Threatening kind of clothing. Armor. Your everyday clothes are specifically designed to help you blend in to crowds. A different kind of armor.

Neither of those looks work right now. You grab a short body con dress out of the walk in closet. If people were focused on your body, they wouldn’t be looking at your face. Also, in the large closet, a display of wigs in all shades and lengths and even different qualities because sometimes the disguise requires you to look like you’re wearing a bad wig. Right now, however, you opt for one of the nicer wigs that looks nothing like your hair; color, texture, or style-wise. You pop on a wig cap and head to the bathroom mirror to get your mask on.

In the bathroom, you run into Ryan putting makeup on, too. He was the one who taught you how to wear makeup as a disguise to hide your features instead of enhancing them. He was going with a more subtle effect than you were since this wasn’t the kind of bar where men were encouraged to wear makeup. You contour your face to a near unrecognizable state without looking too obvious. Not that anyone would notice the contouring past your bright red lipstick, and dark glittery eyes.

“What was Lindsay giving you a hard time about?” Ryan asks conversationally.

“Nothing that’s important right now. Just a guy.” You wave your fake eyelashes back and forth, waiting the the glue to get tacky. 

“Is that so?” Ryan looks over at you. “I’ve never heard you talk about boys. If I’m honest, I wasn’t sure you liked guys.”

“Nah, I just haven’t always had the greatest experience dating. Especially since I got into crime. You either are dating other criminals or you’re lying to someone you can never tell the truth to.”

“So which is this?” Ryan asks as he set his face.

“Lying. Definitely lying.”

“Good luck with that,” he says as he walks out of the bathroom.

“I’ll need it,” you say quietly to yourself, alone in the brightly lit bathroom.

You’re alone just long enough to get your dress and wig on before a knock at the door. Outside the room, stands Gavin. His eyes the slightest bit puffy, and tinged with red. He holds out an ornate necklace. 

“The necklace has a hidden camera and microphone, so I can keep an eye on you all in there.” He puts the necklace on you, and you immediately feel safer knowing that your crew would be watching, and have your back. “And these,” Gavin reaches out the door and grabs a pair of heels, “have hidden blades in the toes.” He clacks the heels together and small blades shoot out. 

“So I can beat up any shit head holding Jeremy. I like it.” You grab the heels from Gavin, and hug them before putting them on. He smiles sadly. “Look, we’re going to get Jeremy back if it’s the last thing we do.”

He pulls you into a hug, “Don’t say that. I couldn’t stand to lose any of you.”

When Gavin lets you go, Ryan pokes his head in and asks if you’re ready to go.

Jack drives you and Ryan to the bar. She is dressed as a driver, and would wait a block away for your escape. Lindsay drives separately to make sure no one knows the group is together. Ryan gets out of his side of the car to open your door for you. Putting on a show for all to see.

You walk in to the bar. Stand tall. Look ahead. Think murder. You don’t need anyone to question your place here. You look like you belong. People part to let you pass. It’s a small bar, not quite a dive, but not quite a nice place either. If you weren’t trying to look like the entertainment, you would have been over dressed. You get looks from the patrons, and even the employees, but no one is looking at your face. Exactly how you’d planned.

There’s a back entrance, but unlike most bars, the performers are not allowed to use that one to unload. So, you walk up to the bar to ask where you were supposed to wait for your call time, and the bartender kindly tells your chest that the door next to the stage leads to the dressing rooms. You thank him, and saunter off to wait back stage.

You peak behind you to make sure Ryan and Lindsay are in place before you stepped through the curtain that covered the doorway. Just inside is a dressing room, with a few couches and a vanity. You leave the dressing room behind as you search the dark hallways of this building for your friend. 

At the end of the hallway was one last door, that leads to a stairwell. You whisper, knowing Gavin was on the other end of your comm. “If I go down those stairs there’s no going back. There’s no amount of dumb I can act that anyone could believe I’m in the basement on accident.”

“Then don’t get caught, V.”

You look around to make sure no one is approaching from behind, and you silently close the door behind you. Just as the door clicks shut, a voice breaks through the silence from beneath you. “It’s about goddamn time! I’ve been waiting for someone to get down here so I can take a leak for like thirty minutes!”

You freeze. A chair scrapes against the concrete floor, and footsteps grew louder, as the presumable owner of the voice approaches the stairs. “Dude, I need to go, or I’m gonna piss myself in front of the prisoner.” He looks up. Clearly you weren’t who he was expecting. 

“Who are you?”

The first act you can think of is to hiccup and slur out, “So sorry, sir.” You look around, eyes wide in fake bewilderment. “This isn’t the bathroom.” You take a step forward to fake losing your balance, since the man is clearly not buying your story. But in your act of tripping, your heels clack together, and the a blade shoots out of the front of your shoe, and the man pulls out his gun, and trains it directly at your chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a good thing I wrote this right after the last chapter because I got sick this week and have not had any time or energy really to write. I gotta catch up now, and get a few chapters ahead again. I don't understand the grammar checking software anymore, I swear it always tries to correct me wrong. Like, no, I don't want too hiccup. That's wrong. Wtf


	9. Code 7500

“Red!” You say urgently, as you grab your shoe and throw it at the man with the gun. “Code red!” You open the door to the backstage hallway. He must have triggered some kind of alarm system; another man already looms at the end of the hallway, approaching slowly.

“What’s going on?” Ryan’s voice filled with concern.

“7500. I don’t have a gun.”

“I’m on my way in there.”

You take off your other shoe, and detach the blade. Fortunately Gavin had thought of this and hadn’t completely removed the handle, so you could use it as a regular knife. The man’s pace quickens, and now he's charging at you. 

He is wearing too much armor for any regular bouncer. You scan over his frame for weak points. His head is exposed, but it was a much smaller target. There isn’t any other option, so you jump at him legs first, trying to get purchase with your thighs, and swing around to his back to stab him in the neck, but he throws you off him before you can really make contact.

He has a foot and probably a hundred pounds on you. You couldn’t match him on shear brute strength, but that had never much been your M.O. anyway. Most of the grunts in this business were built like NFL players, so you had to work smarter, not harder. He doesn’t have a gun, so he lunges at you, and you duck under his reach and try to stab an uncovered part of his chest.

Your blade strikes and he rears back giving you the chance to scan around and look to the environment to help you. The hallway is narrow, not wide enough for two fully grown people to walk side-by-side, but it’s lined in these tacky tapestries and sheer curtains. Probably for sound insulation but right now, for you, they’re going to be so much more than sound-proofing. 

You grab ahold of a curtain, and pull yourself off the ground and out of the goon’s reach, for just a second before pulling another curtain and you kick out, propelling off the wall toward and around the man, tangling him in the curtain. You were aiming to wrap around his neck and choke him, but you managed to tie him up pretty good before the door behind you swings open to reveal Ryan. 

He walks up and slams the butt of his gun into the back of the bouncer’s head, knocking him out, possibly causing brain damage, but you were willing to bet it wasn’t his first rodeo with a head injury. 

Ryan hands you a second gun that he had. “Is there anyone else here? Or just the one guy?”

Before you could answer his question, some of the doors in the hallway that didn’t lead to the bar open up, and more goons spill out. 

“Why do you have to ask stupid questions?” you ask before you start to unload your silenced pistol into the group of men. There aren’t too many other goons, but you’re in such a small space, and with your backs still to the door that lead downstairs, you are stuck.

Bullet after bullet, hit after hit. You and Ryan dwindle down their numbers. About halfway through the bar door opens again, and you find another ally on the other side of the men. Lindsay’s makeup smeared across her face and she looked every bit the sloppy drunk she was supposed to be playing, but the ferocity in her eyes as she lays into the group of men in the hallway betray her sobriety. 

“Is Jeremy here?” Lindsay asks after the trio wastes most of the goons.

“There’s a prisoner down there, probably Jeremy, but I don’t actually know.”

Lindsay pushes past you. “Well, we’ve got guns now. May as well check to see if he’s down here.” 

The three of you go back downstairs. There’s no sounds. Not the guard that was here earlier. Nothing. You lead the way and search for a holding cell. All you find is a table surrounded by two chairs, and a white cowboy hat sitting in the middle.

“Shit!” the other two shush you as you grab Jeremy’s hat, and see nothing left in the basement.

“There has to be a way out from down here,” Lindsay says. “They couldn’t have gotten out upstairs through you. So there’s either a second way to get to the ground floor, or a way directly out from down here.”

The three of you scatter. Looking in every nook and cranny of the basement. Grabbing every book and sconce; hoping for some sort of secret passage to open up and lead you to your lost friend. You rush down a narrow hallway, when out of the corner of your eye you catch as a section of wall flutters. 

There’s a curtain that’d been made up to look like the rest of the wall, and when you pull it away, there’s a door on the other side. “Ryan! Lindsay! Door!” You call your compatriots to your side and grab the handle. “Here goes nothing.” You swing open the door and reveal a spiral staircase.

The three of you rush up, and barrel through the door at the top; leading to an alley behind the bar. An alley that was empty, except for a small, colorful puddle.

“They should really get that fixed,” Ryan points to the pool of oil. “But it means that they just left, probably with Jeremy.”

“God damn it!” You yell probably louder than you should. “Jack,” you held up your hand to your comm, “We’re in the back alley. They left with Jeremy. Meet us here.”

“On my way,” she said.

“Gavin, do you have access to the traffic cameras outside the bar?”

“You know I do, V. I’m already looking for them.”

“I don’t know when they left,”

“Scrubbing through the footage as we speak.”

Your conversation is interrupted by a phone ringing. You don’t have yours on you, since there wasn’t a lot of room in your dress, but Ryan answers his.

“Get out of there now! I just got another call from Pruitt, they know you’re there, and they’ve threatened the penthouse! Everyone’s evacuating!” Geoff’s voice loud enough for all three of you to hear without speakerphone. 

“We were just on our way out. Rendezvous point Alpha?” Ryan asks.

“No, Delta.”

“Is Jeremy still ok?”

“He’s still alive, thank fuck. But I don’t know if they’re planning on keeping him in one piece for much longer if we keep doing stupid shit.”

“We’ll see you at Delta.” Ryan hangs up the phone as Jack pulls the getaway car up to the alley, and the three of you pile in. Filling her in on your call with Geoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a while since I updated. Things are getting busy and for some reason writing is the thing being pushed to the back burner. I need to make more time in my week to sit down and write. I also don't know why I keep writing fight scenes into this story when choreographing a fight scene is not my forte. What are things you really enjoy but can't write about?


	10. A New Roommate

The lights of the city fade past as Jack drives to Rendezvous delta deep in the mountains; the Fakes have a safe house hidden in the mountains, and Rendezvous Delta is just a few miles away. Jack pulls onto a dirt road and makes it the few miles before her headlights shine on another car.

The group of you pile out of the car, the night mountain air chilly enough in your short dress that you shiver. You’d spent enough time in freezing weather in the army, but you couldn’t ever remember wearing a cocktail dress during your tour in the army. You rub your arms, hoping the friction will heat you up. But before you really have a chance to see if the rubbing even helped, a jacket is being draped over your shoulders. 

“You look a little underdressed there,” Ryan says walking around you.

“Thanks,” you mutter. It was still summer, but the temperature in the mountains dropped enough at night for you to see your breath as you spoke.

The other car empties, and Geoff, Trevor, Gavin, and Michael stand with you in a circle.

“So,” Geoff starts, “the penthouse is compromised until we take down Pruitt. I’m staying at Safe House Kilo with the B Team. Jack, you are free to stay there with me, or find some place cushier until this blows over. And Trevor needs a place to stay. In case something happens, I want us in separate places so at least one of us will still be around to keep you fuckers in line.”

No one says anything for a long uncomfortable moment. “I have an available guest bedroom in my apartment,” you speak up from the silence.

Trevor beams at you, and stands next to you with his meager backpack of belongings. “I want to say, ‘You won’t even know I’m there,’ but I don’t want to lie to you.” 

You chuckle. Trevor had never been your closest work friend, but you get along well enough. He’s a good leader who you you trust to have your back in the field. 

Safe House Kilo stores some extra vehicles, so you won’t all be riding together like some kind of easy target on the way back to the city. The B Team brought one of your extra bikes, that you and Trevor ride back to your apartment.

You show him around the place and then immediately pass out on your bed. Your skin would be mad at you in the morning, but you just couldn’t keep your eyes open for another second after the adrenaline of the evening wore off. 

~~~~

Your phone is buzzing. You could have sworn you were only asleep for a minute, but when you check your phone to stop the buzzing, you find that it’s almost noon. You blink a few times to clear away the sleep and dryness, so you can focus on the screen.

From Miles Luna:  
“Are we still on for lunch today? :)”

Before you can answer, you hear a noise from outside of your bedroom. You lurch awake and grab the gun you keep in your nightstand. You try to put your phone in the pocket of your pajama pants, but you look down and realize that you never changed out of the cocktail dress from last night.

“Goddamnit,” you whisper as you creep to your bedroom door. You burst through the door only to point your gun in the startled face of your boss.

“Right, not used to roommates,” Trevor says after the shock of you bursting out of your room wore off. He stood by your coffee maker pouring what was clearly not his first cup of coffee that morning. You lower your gun and look around your living room, and at all the papers strewn about every surface.

“You didn’t sleep last night did you?”

He shook his head, cupping the warm mug closer to his body. “This is the first time something like this has happened since I took over the crew. Maybe I’m taking it a little too hard.”

You put your gun-free hand on his shoulder. “We all know the risks of this lifestyle. You can’t take it too personally.”

His eyes move from your hand on his shoulder to your face, and he cracks a smile. “I’m sorry, I know we’re, like, having a moment. But you look like the Winter Soldier.” 

You take your hand from his shoulder, and punch him. “An admirable assassin to be compared to.” You stick your tongue out at Trevor before turning around to drop your gun back off in your room, and heading to take a shower.

“I guess I should rain check my lunch date, huh?” You mutter on your way back through your living room. 

“Don’t change your plans just because of me,” Trevor protests.

“I should be helping you find Jeremy, anyway.” You brush off. “Not being distracted by some guy.”

“Look, we don’t always get a lot of happiness doing what we do. So when you’ve got some, don’t let it go just because of some duty to us.”

You ignore Trevor’s protest, and text Miles, “I’m so sorry, I’ve got a work emergency. Rain check?”

Heading to the bathroom, your phone buzzes again. “On a Saturday?”

“Unfortunately crazy work schedule”

“Do you need a pick me up? Or something? I can get takeout.” Which is followed quickly by. “I’m sorry if that’s too forward. I know we only met like yesterday, and I don’t want to overstep and stop by where you work”

You chuckle. God, he’s too thoughtful. “I’m working from home today, and my boss is here. But you know what? You should stop by. It’s going to be a long day”

You peek your head out of the bathroom. “Trevor, is it ok with you if he comes over at lunch?”

“It’s your apartment! Do whatever the fuck you want.”

You and Miles hammer out the details, and you hop in the shower to wash off the mistakes of last night.


	11. Your Apartment turns into a Circus

After your shower, you dry off and get dressed. You wear something nice, but casual, you look very different from last night, or this morning. You think about putting some makeup on. Then you head back out to your living room, where you find some more faces sitting on your couch.

“Trevor,” you call his name to question him about Gavin and Ryan in your apartment.

“I didn’t invite them.” He puts his hands up signaling innocence. “I promise they just showed up.”

Ryan shoots you a questioning look. “Were we not supposed to come over?”

“It’s whatever,” you sigh. “I guess if y’all scare him off now, I’ll just know sooner.”

“Him?” Gavin questions.

“Yeah, I have a guy coming over.”

“And Treyco was going to get to meet him first? You know Lindsay would be so hurt!” Gavin yells, pulling out his phone.

“What are you doing with that?” You leap to grab his phone out of his hand, but he manages to keep it away from you as he dials Lindsay’s number.

“You need to come to Viper’s apartment!” Gavin yells into his phone, while you grapple him from behind and he holds the phone out of your reach.

“Fuck your gangly arms, Gavin!” You try and fail to reach his phone, while Trevor and Ryan watch, laughing, and mocking you by being tall and not helping.

“Is something wrong?” You hear Lindsay’s voice, quiet because it’s not on speaker.

“Her boyf is coming over!” 

“He’s not my boyfriend! I met him yesterday!” You argue.

“You must like him, this is moving so fast,” Lindsay says. “He’s already meeting your family?” Behind her voice, Michael says something you can’t understand, but you hear her car starting. She’s already on her way.

“I’m not really being given much of a choice, am I?” You make eye contact with Gavin.

“Love you!” Gavin yells into the phone, and hangs up. 

“I hate you so fucking much.” You climb off Gavin’s back and stare venom into his eyes.

He smiles at you, “Oh, you could have stopped me if you wanted, love.”

“I mean, yeah, I’ve got several guns hidden in this place, but that seemed excessive.”

Gavin just winks at you. “Wait,” Trevor interrupts after calming down from laughing at you both. “You pulled a gun on me this morning!”

You cock an eyebrow at Gavin that says, ‘See, I wasn’t kidding.’ “And Trevor, I apologized for that.”

“What? No, you didn’t.”

You think back and remember that he is right. You didn’t apologize. “You weren’t too shaken by it anyway.” You go to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee, that Trevor has apparently been constantly brewing since you got home last night.

“I should just cancel the lunch date. I’m not ready to test whatever we have this early with all you fuckers,” you say plopping on the couch next to Gavin, holding your coffee mug tight to your chest.

“First of all, you can’t do that because Lindsay is already on her way, and she’ll beat me up if you cancel,” Gavin says stirring his tea. He made sure long ago that everyone’s apartments were stocked up on the tea he likes. “Second, when you find someone that you like, hold on to them. You never know when they’ll be taken away from you.”

You pull Gavin in for a side hug.

“And third,” he continues. “We have to make sure this guy is good enough for you. If he can withstand us, he’s either very loyal or very thirsty.” Which prompts you to let go of the hug, and punch Gavin in the shoulder. Probably too hard. You probably left a bruise.

You pull out your phone to text Miles, “There may be a few more people than anticipated. We should probably order pizza or smth”

You get back, “That works for me :)”

“God, he’s too fucking nice,” you mutter throwing your head back.

“You met him yesterday, he’s still putting his best foot forward,” Ryan says without looking up from his laptop.

“Yeah, I guess. He just seems strangely genuine.”

“I guess we’ll find out today whether he is or not,” Gavin says smiling cheekily.

“You guys are not going to grill him! He doesn’t need the third degree yet!” You turn to Gavin, almost spilling your still-too-hot-to-drink coffee on both of you. 

“Fredo’s on his way over, too,” Trevor says, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Oh, good. I hope no one decides to bomb my apartment and take out the whole Fake AH crew,” you joke as a knock on your door signals Lindsay and Michael barging in.

You look around, and realize that Miles is going to meet almost the whole Fake AH crew. This is not something you’ve planned for. Only a day in and you’re putting this relationship through a real big test.

The Joneses walk into your living room, and Lindsay looks around expectantly. “He’s not here yet, Linds,” you say, standing up to give her a welcome hug. “You can cool your jets.”

“Gavin made it sound urgent,” she responded.

“That’s because that one,” Gavin points at you, “was on my back trying to grab my phone out of my hand.”

“Aww, you didn’t want me to meet your boyfriend?” Lindsay’s puppy dog eyes drill into you.

“Hmm, you’re right, Lindsay. I should introduce this man I just met to all of the most wanted criminals in the city.”

Michael protests, “Some of us are wanted all over the state.”

“I’m wanted internationally, and you know it, V,” Gavin crosses his arms, dramatically offended.

“Ok, whatever, I guess it’s time to rip the bandage off, and really test this relationship, huh,” you look around at the assortment of criminals you’ve collected in your living room.

“If it makes you feel better,” Ryan speaks up, “I’m on a murder break.” You look at Ryan. He’s sitting on your living room floor, wearing wire-rimmed dad glasses, a backwards baseball cap with some faded logo you can’t read anymore, worn out jeans, and black socks without shoes. He’s holding a can of Diet Coke with an old laptop he keeps repairing perched on your coffee table. He’s never looked less scary, and you burst out laughing. The Vagabond isn’t sitting in your living room. Ryan, the PC guy, is. 

You look around the room. The Golden Boy with his silver tongue isn’t using your Keurig to make more tea; that’s just Gavin. Bomb disposal expert, Mogar, isn’t standing in your living room, arm around his wife; it’s just Michael, wearing a beanie and a worn out hoodie. 

Despite Alfredo setting up a computer at your desk, your living room didn’t look like it was filled with the most wanted criminals in the state, or probably country. It was just people working on a Saturday morning. 

Your phone buzzes, “I’m on my way. Do you want to order the pizza and I can pick it up?”

You look up at the group, “Is pizza ok with everyone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh fun! Almost the whole crew gets to rake Miles through the coals. Who do you think is going to be your scariest teammate?


	12. Do you like your pizza grilled? (Part 1)

You send a quick text to Miles to warn him that your apartment is apparently now a circus, all your coworkers decided to show up, and this is his last chance to back out. 

You order enough pizzas for everyone because Miles still hasn’t decided to bail. You make an announcement to your uninvited guests. “I just want to warn you guys that he is not in the business, so no talking about criminal shit when he’s here.”

The unplanned party currently in your living room starts to get antsy before a knock at your door freezes everyone in place. You weave through the small crowd, yelling at Ryan that you’d like your walls without holes in them, thank you. You open the door, and are greeted by that smiling face that melts your heart just a little too much. You open the door all the way to let him inside, when suddenly a throwing knife is embedded in the front of your door just inches away from Miles.

“Ryan, I am going to murder you!” you yell before you even get a chance to introduce anyone. You pull the knife out of your door and pocket it. “You aren’t getting this back.” 

“Nice to meet you all,” Miles says to the room as if he hadn’t just been threatened with a knife. “I’m Miles.” 

“You got a last name?” Lindsay says standing up from the couch with an empty beer bottle, and no, according to the Fakes, it’s never too early to start drinking. You never know when a drink is going to be your last. 

Before Miles gets a chance to answer, you correct, “Hey, I think that goes something like, ‘Hi, I’m Lindsay Jones. Do you have a last name?’”

Lindsay rolls her eyes, and laughs, “Hi,” she reaches out to shake his hand before realizing that his arms are still very full of pizza, “I’m Lindsay Jones.” She grabs the pizza from his arms and places the boxes of the coffee table. “This is my husband, Michael.” She gestures to Michael, who’d gotten up to get plates and napkins for the group. “Do you have a last name too?”

Miles spends her whole spiel chuckling. “Luna. I’m Miles Luna.” 

“So, Miles. If you had to take a peen, would you prefer in your mouth or up your arse?”

“You know what?” you interrupt again. “This was a bad idea. My friends all suck.”

“Hey!” Trevor says. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Yes, I know. And that’s why you’re staying here.” You turn to Miles. “This is Trevor, he’s my boss and temporary roommate. And that,” you put your palm on your face, “is Gavin.”

Miles hasn’t really stopped chuckling, between the awkwardness and the things he’s found genuinely funny. “Nice to meet you Gavin. And definitely up the ass. That’s what a prostate is for. What about you?” 

Gavin looks at you and then back at Miles, “Are you flirting with me, Mr Luna?”

“Not in front of our lovely host.” Miles puts his hand on your shoulder. “I just met her a few days ago. I don’t want to ruin anything yet.”

“Diplomatic answer. I like it. We gotta make sure she doesn’t accidentally date any homophobes, you know?”

“I guess that’s fair. I don’t either. But you don’t gotta worry about me. I played too much gay chicken in college, and I turned bi.”

Lindsay yells “Samesies!” and goes in for a high five.

“Hmm, not scared off by Ryan’s knife or by Gavin’s… Gavinness,” Trevor comments idly. 

“I mean, getting used to violence comes with the territory. Y’all live in Los Santos too,” Miles says.

You notice for the first time, that Michael is oddly silent. He’s just been staring at Miles and eating pizza. You’ve never known him not to at least comment on Gavin’s bullshit before. 

You make sure that everyone has pizza, and got almost everyone to sit on your couch or on the floor surrounding your coffee table. You got everyone drinks. You weren’t normal the hostess type, but you wanted to put your best foot forward for Miles.

Fredo is the only person not sitting around your coffee table, and is eating pizza by his computer. And from over by his computer he yells at Miles, asking for all his social media names. “We gotta make sure you aren’t a stalker, or like an evil spy or something.”

Miles laughed and complied. You knew that Fredo already had all that information the minute he found out Miles’ full name. But you also knew that asking was a test by itself. He had to make sure Miles’ wouldn’t lie about his names, or lie about having social media at all. 

“Why do you still have an Ass Swipe account?” Fredo says without looking up from the monitor.

“Because accounts don’t delete when you delete the app. Which I deleted before we met. Two days ago,” Miles is surprisingly good at putting up with interrogation.

“Good answer,” Fredo says.

After a minute more of eating, and making sure Fredo was done questioning Miles about his social media habits, Lindsay asks, “So what is it that drew you to each other?”

Miles’ cheeks redden a tad at such a forward question. “Well, at first it was just chance, that I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going when I knocked her down in the grocery store. I think it’s safe to say we were both mortified, and I really needed to quickly clean my conscience of what I’d just done,” he turns away from Lindsay, and starts talking to you instead, “and it didn’t hurt that you were really cute. We had coffee, and we talked so easily. It didn’t feel like a ‘first date.’ All awkward and trying to think of things to say, and it didn’t feel like you were trying to impress me or anything. Oh, and you’re really funny. One of the most important things, I couldn’t date someone without a sense of humor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes. So Miles finally made it to your apartment. This chapter got too long so I broke it into two parts, I'll post the second part tonight or tomorrow. Isn't Miles the cutest? He sure is handling this whole circus well.


	13. Do you like your pizza grilled? (Part 2)

And now it’s your turn to blush. This seems almost too good to be true. He is so sweet. And then you realize that everyone is staring at you. “Oh, do I go too? I thought you were grilling Miles.” You pause a beat, waiting for some one to stop you. “Ok, well. I was in the grocery store. Covered in eggs. I just wanted everyone’s eyes off of me. He told me that he couldn’t let me stand there with egg on my face, and I could not believe he said that.” You laugh remembering, “And your smile was so genuine. Like I didn’t understand how smiles could be contagious before. You seemed so real. Like you are just you. You don’t put up any facade to try to impress people.”

The room is uncomfortably silent as you finish speaking. You and Miles staring into each others eyes. As Michael says, “Get a room, weirdos.”

“Oh, so Michael can talk,” Miles says.

“Eh, you know,” Michael is surprisingly flippant.

Ryan finishes a bite of pizza and asks, “When was your last serious relationship?”

“What? Did you guys look up questions to ask?” You are incredulous. “We don’t even know how serious this is yet.”

“It’s ok,” Miles says to you. “This has already lasted longer than my last several. Haven’t had a lot of luck dating recently. Plus I have a ridiculous work schedule, so it’s been a while.”

“What do you do for a living?” Gavin asks.

“That’s a bit shallow,” Miles chuckles. “We were just getting to some fun deep questions.”

“Sometimes, I’m shallow,” Gavin returns.

“I mean, it’s boring, and I don’t even know what you guys do.”

The room silenced for a beat before Trevor says, “We work for an acquisition company.”

“On a Saturday?” Miles questions. “I thought those kinds of jobs got weekends.”

“You know, the tax quarter is ending. And international clients means we’re on call basically 24 hours a day.”

Before Miles could answer the question posed to him by Gavin, Alfredo interrupts. “Trevor, I found something interesting.” The group’s focus shifts away from Miles as Trevor crosses the room to look at Fredo’s screen. 

Miles’ phone buzzes with a call, and he excuses himself to the hall to answer. “Dude, you have to come to the station right now!” Kyle yells through the speaker.

“What’s going on?”

“Apparently Rimmy Tim got kidnapped, and the kidnappers have gone public with their demands for the Fakes! Get your ass down here!!”

“Oh, fuck. Okay,” Miles looks around your apartment. Trevor was pacing around on the phone, clearly being yelled at from the other end. Gavin and Fredo were buried in their computers. Ryan was yelling something into his phone. Michael had stormed out. You were frantically texting someone. “I’m on my way,” he says to Kyle.

He walks to you, and gently puts his hand on your shoulder to catch your attention causing you to jump a foot in the air. “Sorry, but I gotta go.”

You sigh, “That’s ok; something came up here too.” You look around, “Let me walk you out the door so we can get a minute to ourselves?”

You follow him out the door, and stop just outside your doorway. “I’m really sorry about everyone. I really wanted our second date to be just the two of us.”

“Hey, it’s ok. I still had fun.” Miles laughs, leaning against the wall next to your door.

“And I’m sorry Ryan threw a knife at you, and they just grilled you.”

“That was nothing. Just wait until you meet my friends. Or worse. My family. Then we’ll be more than even.” He winks.

You two fell silent, not wanting to walk away again. Just like your coffee date, trying to prolong this goodbye for just a few more seconds together. Miles’ face is just inches from yours when you realize that the two of you had been leaning in toward each other. You’re about to close in, and kiss him, when Trevor opens the door. “Oh, you’re out here.” He looks at the two of you, and noticing what he interrupted, his cheeks go red. “Sorry, but I need to talk to you.”

“Ok,” you tell him. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

Trevor closes the door, and Miles asks, “Should I be jealous of you living with your very attractive boss?”

You look at him and then at the door where Trevor just was, and you just make a face. “Ew, no. God, no.” 

Miles just laughs at your response until his phone buzzes with a text. “I really have to go.” Miles gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, and rushes off down the hallway and out of your sight.

Before you go back inside to face the even worse chaos your apartment has become, Michael comes stomping back to your door, having left Lindsay in your apartment, so he couldn’t go anywhere without stranding her. When Michael sees you standing outside your apartment by yourself, he stops in his tracks and clams up. You’ve never seen Michael nervous like this before. He wasn’t as prone to social anxiety, but he says, “So, um, I might have made out with your new boyfriend at a club before I started dating Lindsay.”

“What?” Is all you got to say before Michael opened the door and ran inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Also, damn. But I have plans for the first kiss and this just wasn't it. The stars weren't aligned for it today.


	14. Reporters Take Over the Station

Miles tries his hardest not to speed as he heads for the station. He has an extra uniform at his desk, he’ll just change there. He’s not even supposed to be on duty today. The station is going to be so crowded if everyone comes in because of the news.

After waiting in the still-ridiculous-on-a-Saturday traffic for way too long in the baking hot Los Santos sun, Miles finds himself scouring the LSPD parking lot for a free space.

“Dude, what took you so long?” Kyle says when Miles finally makes it into the building, after pushing through a small crowd of reporters. “I know how long it takes to get here from your apartment, and where’s your uniform?”

“Hold on, give me a minute,” Miles grabs his extra uniform from his desk drawer and heads to the bathroom to change.

When Miles emerges from the bathroom, in full uniform, Kyle repeats his earlier questions, “So, what took you so long? And why the fuck did you have to use your spare uniform?”

“I wasn’t at my apartment.”

Kyle’s eyebrows shoot straight into his hairline. “Oh, you weren’t? Were you at that girl’s place?”

“Not like that!” Miles threw a pen at his friend.

Just then, Haddock walks out of his office and calls to them, “Oh, good you’re both here. Come in.”

Once in his office, Haddock tells them, “I put your names in to be promoted to detective. I can’t make any promises. It’s all in the commissioner’s hands now.”

They both sit in silence for a few beats before Haddock tells them that was all, and they leave the office. Before the pair can get back to their desks, they notice a fluffy haired reporter leaning on Kyle’s desk, waiting for them.

“Get off my desk, Jon, you know we’re not supposed to talk to reporters.”

“Not even for old times’ sake?” Jon looks at the two, who were clearly unconvinced. “Look, I’ll even go off the record and we can just talk.”

“Off the record?” Kyle confirms.

Jon puts his notepad back in his pocket, turns his phone off, and nodds. 

“Miles only just got here, so he doesn’t know any of what’s going on yet, either,” Kyle starts. “Do you guys remember that job the Fakes just did at the Sanguine Rose? Well, the guys they pissed off there decided to get some revenge, and they took Rimmy Tim hostage.”

“How?” Miles asks incredulously. “I don’t think he’s been held hostage since joining the Fakes.”

“I mean he’s only been part of the Fakes officially for like a year,” Jon adds, “Just a matter of time.”

“I guess.” 

Kyle continues the current news. “They’ve also said that they want the money that was cheated from them in the deal. $750 million dollars. And they want immunity from the Fakes. Plus a few other small things, like a warehouse on the wharf, some territory. Apparently they went to the Fakes privately yesterday, but they didn’t pay up.”

“Wait, do they not care about Rimmy Tim now or something?” Miles asks.

“I’d bet paying out these demands will open them up to even more kidnapping attempts,” Jon muses. 

“But now that things have been made public, it puts the Fakes in a very interesting spot. This could be a good time for us to try to get them, while they’re distracted and down a main member.”

“Even without Rimmy Tim, the Fakes are still a force,” Jon says.

“The distraction is more what I’m counting on,” Kyle says.

Miles’ phone buzzes as Kyle and Jon are debating how this whole thing is going to affect the police’s chance of getting to the Fakes. A message from you pops up, “I’m still sorry about lunch. Let me make it up to you. How does a movie sound?”

“I like movies,” Miles texts back.

“Awesome! The next Star Battle Defenders movie just came out. Tickets are on me!”

“Ok, but im getting dinner then.”

“Deal!”

“And then Miles fell from the roof and splatted everywhere,” Kyle says as Miles pays attention to the conversation again.

“What?”

“Welcome back, texting your girlfriend?” 

“Oh, there’s a new girlfriend?” Jon asks excited.

“She’s not my girlfriend. Not yet. We’ve been on two dates.”

“Yeah, two dates and you’re already coming to work from her place,” Kyle accuses.

Jon’s eyebrows shoot clear up to his hair line. “Oh?”

“We had a lunch date, and I wasn’t even supposed to be here today.”

“So, not a breakfast date?” Kyle’s eyebrows waggled suggestively.

“I am a gentleman,” Miles argues.

“Oh, we all know that’s not true,” Jon accuses.

“That was so long ago, Jon.” At the reminder of his more fun days, a face from your apartment flashes across his mind. “All her friends were at her apartment anyway, so it’s not like we could even do anything if I wanted to.”

“Wait,” Kyle suddenly offended. “You got to meet her friends already? I need to meet her right now.”

Miles rolls his eyes, “It wasn’t planned or anything, they were having some sort of work emergency or something.”

“On a Saturday?” Kyle and Jon both question.

“They apparently work weird hours. International acquisition company or something.”

“What’s the name of the company?” Kyle already has a search engine pulled up on his computer.

“I don’t know that they said. But I wouldn’t tell you even if they did. You’re not very romantic.”

“And you aren’t very safe. What if she’s a murderer or a scam artist?”

“A scam artist who introduced me to all of her friends? There were like six people at her apartment. I don’t have enough money for them to split it seven ways.”

“You said you went on two dates,” Jon interrupts. “And you’re already meeting her people? Isn’t this a little fast?”

“It’s not like I’m asking her to marry me already or something.”

“Oh, I also need to be there whenever Kyle meets her. I am not missing that. Not for anything in the world.”

“You know what?” Miles throws his hands up in defeat. “When we make detective, then you two can meet her.”

“Who’s meeting who?” Cole asks as he walks into the station.

Miles groans and rolls his head back. He needs some easier friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while. I need to get more discipline to write this. I love this story and I want to finish it, but sometimes its just so hard. Just know that this isnt dead, I am not giving up on this story.


	15. Respondent

Ryan is still skeptical of the plan, even as he drives Gavin to the rendezvous point. The Vagabond and The Golden Boy were to meet a reporter contact of Trevor’s. The idea was to make a public response to Pruitt. That they weren’t scared. You don’t shoot a wasps nest, you only piss off the wasps. 

The reporter had suggested a place to meet that wouldn’t have any prying eyes or ears. The reporter often worked with the LSPD, but also had a trusted relationship with the underbelly of the city as well. He knew how to play both sides of the law to get the stories out to the public. 

However, after pulling into the damp, underground parking lot, the Vagabond is surprised to find the reporter already waiting for them. Well, what really shocks him was the reporter’s appearance. He isn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t curly purple hair, and so many jackets, Ryan isn’t sure how the other man moved his arms. He has a hoodie, and a jean jacket over a graphic tee from some comic book franchise Ryan isn’t familiar with. And if two jackets aren’t enough, a flannel tied is also around his waist, you know, for emergencies.

Gavin cheerfully introduces himself as the Golden Boy to the reporter, who in turn introduces himself as Jon Risinger.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t meet earlier. I was at the police station trying to get information on the hostage situation. But I’d bet you can tell me more than they can.”

“We’ll answer some questions, but we have a statement we’d like to make to the man responsible for the kidnapping.”

“Do you know who’s holding Rimmy Tim hostage?”

“We do, love.”

Ryan stays in the shadows, where the Vagabond belongs. The silent watcher. But even if he weren’t supposed to be a silent assassin, he isn’t sure he could form words. Something about the reporter charmed him. He wasn’t sure if it was the funny hair, his patchy beard, or his smile? The Vagabond wasn’t caught off guard often, and he isn’t a particularly happy camper when he is.

Jon makes eye contact as Ryan glowers behind his mask. “I thought we were coming alone.”

“Oh him?” Gavin turns back at the Vagabond and waves. “He’s just here to make sure I’m safe. He won’t attack unprompted. So, as long as you don’t have any surprises for me, then you’re safe.”

“Ok,” Jon doesn’t sound convinced, but he is clearly excited about the exclusive he’s getting, so he moves on. “You said you knew who had Rimmy Tim? So why aren’t you going after him to get Tim back?”

“Knowing who has Rimmy is different than knowing where he is. But we’re closing in on the location. We should know within the day, and be able to go get our man.”

“Can you share who has Rimmy Tim?”

“I’m not at liberty to share that one.”

Jon asked a few more questions, and Gavin answered the info he’d been told by Trevor that he’d been allowed to answer.

“Can I ask some questions about the Fakes in general?”

“You sure can, but I can’t guarantee I can answer them. Professional secrets and all that.”

“Is Ramsey still the leader of the Fakes?”

Gavin took a beat to compose the answer he knew Trevor would want. He couldn’t let it slip that Geoff wasn’t the actual leader anymore. Well, at least not in charge of things. “Ramsey started the Fake AH crew, and he will always be the one we answer to.”

Jon has been scribbling in his notebook the whole meeting, since they told him he wasn’t allowed to audio record, for safety reasons.

“There’s so many rumors I want to confirm or shoot down.” 

“I don’t know that we quite have the time for all of that. I gave you one this time. Maybe,” Gavin steps a little closer to Jon, and hears Ryan move a tad behind him, Gavin looks at the reporter through half-lidded eyes, “we’ll have to meet again to answer more of your questions.”

Jon gulps audibly, and lets out a dry chuckle, “Maybe we will.” After a beat of silence under the heavy gaze of the famous grifter, Jon continues. “You had a statement for me?”

“That I did,” Gavin steps back and hears Ryan relax again. “We want the man holding Rimmy Tim to know that we don’t crumble to demands, and we won’t give in just because he brought the whole city into what should have been our private business. You don’t shoot a hornets nest to get rid of them; you just get a whole lot of pissed off hornets. We will find him. We will take him down, and if anything serious happens to Rimmy Tim, no one in that gang will live to regret what they’ve done.” Jon’s hands shake as he scribbles down every word Gavin said.

Ryan smirks under his mask, it isn’t often that the crew gets to see this side of Gavin. 

Gavin and Jon part ways, heading back to respective vehicles. Once back in the car, Gavin turns to Ryan and asks, “What were you on about in there?”

Ryan keeps his eyes on the road, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You were actin off.”

“I wasn’t doing anything. I was being the silent, scary Vagabond.”

“No, you were being weird.”

“I don’t actually know what you’re talking about.”

“Did Jon do something? Do you hate Jon?”

“I don’t hate Jon. We met him once.”

“Do you like Jon?”

“What? We don’t know anything about him. Besides you were the one flirting with him.”

“I was doing my job, and you’re deflecting. You like Jon,” Gavin squeals, and suddenly Ryan forgets about the scary Gavin he just saw in the parking garage.

“You’re the worst. I’m not talking about this.”

“You like him!” Gavin giggles, “I can’t believe it.”

Ryan stops responding, and Gavin gets bored of the subject, but he definitely doesn’t forget about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters back-to-back? A miracle!


	16. Your Friends are Dirty-Minded Assholes

Miles paces back and forth in front of his mirror. He’s checked his hair and teeth as many times as a sane person can, and he still has so long before the date even starts. He looks around his dingy apartment for things to distract him. It’s not the kind of place he’d be proud to show you, especially after he saw your apartment. But it was his home, and he didn’t have to share it with anybody. It was mostly clean. Some clutter here and there, but no trash or food wrappers, and his laundry was all folded and put away for once. His desk in the corner of the living room was stacked with papers from work taken home over months and months of boredom.

He’s too antsy to tidy up, maybe he could call someone to quell his nerves. He tries Cole’s number, but was sent straight to voicemail. The next number he dials is Kyle’s who answers the phone with some weird new form of hello every time he picks it up. 

“Dude, I’m fucking nervous, and I need to talk to someone or I’m gonna go crazy.”

“Yeah, of course. What’s goin on?”

“So, I have a date tonight, and it’s like the first one we’ve planned thats gonna be just the two of us.”

“How many dates has it been?”

“This would be our third.”

“Eyyy, you know what the third date is!”

“KT, why am I friends with you?”

“Because you know I’m just messing.”

Miles shakes his head and smiles, he couldn’t be friends with anyone as lecherous as Kyle pretends to be. When he first met Kyle, he thought that he really was that much of an asshole, that is until he gave the guy a chance. 

At least talking to his friend was distracting enough to get him through the time before he had to leave.

~~~~

You stand in your underwear in front of a closet full of clothes, not sure what to wear or how nice you should dress. You haven’t really had to worry about what you were wearing on a date with Miles yet. But anything would be a step up from your fist date you suppose. It’s hard to get dressed worse than egg covered sweat pants.

You collapse in your bed and grab your phone. Who can help? Sure, Gavin would be helpful with figuring out the nuances of fashion that occasionally evade you. But he’s very high energy, and might actually make the nerves worse at the moment. You scroll through your recent calls, Lindsay would be hurt if you called someone else about this anyway. You tap on her name.

She picks up almost immediately. “Hey! What’s up?”

“I have a date with Miles tonight, and like a goddamn cliche I can’t figure out what the fuck to wear.”

“Ooh! This is exciting. We rarely get to do girl stuff! And I need to think about something other than how much I can’t help Jeremy right now.”

“God, me fucking too. Miles has been a blessed distraction from how not helpful my skill set it for finding him.”

“So, what’s the date?”

“We’re going to see the new Star Battle Defenders movie. It came out on Friday, and I was otherwise occupied.”

“And this is how many dates?”

“Well, if the grocery store, and yesterday at my apartment count, then this is the third.”

“Third date, huh? You better be wearing your nice underwear.”

“What the fuck, Lindsay?”

“Yeah? How long has it been since you had sex?”

“How long has it been since you’ve had sex??”

“Hey, I am in control of that. I could whenever we want.”

You look down at the underwear you were wearing. You probably could be wearing nicer underwear. It wasn’t like your comfy granny panties, but you could step it up. Just in case. “Fine, I’ll wear nicer underwear.”

“Ok, I know I brought it up as a joke, but when was the last time you had a date before Miles?”

“Dating hasn’t really been my focus for a while. Kinda hard to find someone to date when you’re building up your reputation as a heartless killer for hire, just ask Ryan.”

“Ooohhh! Shit’s fired,” Lindsay laughs. “Also, do you have any, like, casual dresses? I think that would work perfectly.”

You skim through your closet. You have a few dresses, something short and cute. It isn’t a formal dinner, so no little black dress. Plus the AC in the theater would freeze you so much you couldn’t pay any attention to anything else.

You grab one of the dresses in your favorite color. Just above your knees, flowy, and cute. You put Lindsay on speaker, and take a pic to send her.  
“Oh, perfect, I love that. Is that a leather jacket on the chair behind you?”

You look back, and sure enough you have a jacket hanging on the chair in front of your vanity. “There sure is,” you tell her as you shrug the jacket on.

“And your little ankle boots! With the chain? Although, you could probably even wear a stiletto, that man is a giant.”

“I am not wearing stilettos to the movie theater.”

“Oh, and don’t forget those cute little thigh things, they’re way cuter than the spanx to stop the chafing.”

You stood in front of your mirror with your whole outfit now. You’d underestimated Lindsay’s style help. You keep her on speaker as you sit down in front of your mirror to do some makeup.

Lindsay helps you pass the time until Miles texts you that he’s on his way to pick you up. The first couple of minutes in the car are silent and tense as both of you were nervous about your first on purpose date. But it’s not long before the conversation starts flowing again, and you talk about how excited you are for the movie, and how neither of you have had time to see it yet. You find it hard to be nervous around Miles for very long. 

You make it to the theater without realizing how long the drive was, and Miles tries to pay for the tickets but you don’t let him. “This is to make up for the fiasco at my apartment yesterday. You are not allowed to pay for anything tonight!”

And you two find your seats. He insists that the middle of the theater has the best sound quality, and you try to sit as close to the center of the auditorium as you can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Motivation and Inspiration are a great temporary substitute for Discipline. I'm excited for this story again! I think I got burnt out by work and stuff and couldn't be creative for a while. But I'm back!


	17. Maybe They Were Right

It’s dark as you leave the theater, and the two of you are wired. “Oh, my god, when Hammerman came down from space, and everyone from the team saw him for the first time again! And suddenly everyone got a surge of energy for the battle again!” You almost yell as the two of you find Miles’ car. 

“Or when Steeleman stole the gems of power, and snapped his fingers and killed Garus!” You both knew the movie was objectively okay, but there was so much hype around it that the two of you were so excited about every little detail.

You both get into the car and Miles’ stomach growls over the two of you talking. He tries to deflect but you see a blush run across his face. You chuckle, “The popcorn didn’t fill me up either. Do you want to continue this discussion over some food?”

“You ok with something fast?”

“Fast is fine with me.” 

Miles drives out of the parking lot to his favorite trash, middle on the night, fast food place. The two of you still talking about the movie, and all your favorite parts and the things you’re hoping for the next one. Which heroes you hope will be in the next one, which mantles are going to be passed along. Who’s staying on Earth, and who’s going off to be space cowboys.

As you pull in to the QuickieBurger, the sky opens up. Rain beats down on the car, and Miles searches through the dark interior for an umbrella only to come up empty handed. “I don’t have an umbrella, or anything to cover us with.”

You open the door and look around, gaging how far the car is from the entrance. “I have an idea,” is all you get out before you take off through the empty, late night parking lot. “Last one in pays!” You yell back at him as he scrambles out of the car to follow you.

“That’s not fair. You cheater!” He barks.

Your hair is soaked, and your leather jacket is sticky as you finally get under the awning outside the entrance. You turn around to watch Miles finish your race. The two of you can’t catch your breath from laughter and adrenaline from your childish antics. Your eyes wide and happy, as you both take heaving breaths.

Miles doesn’t say anything after he catches up with you, just staring at your radiant smile with a matching smile on his face. Before he can properly think through what he’s doing, he grabs your jacket and pulls you into an embrace, and kisses you. Unprepared for a kiss, your teeth clank together and he pulls away, realizing what he just did.

His face turns hot enough to evaporate the water dripping off his curly hair as he mumbles apologies. You don’t let him mumble for very long, nor do you answer his apologies. You grab his face between two open hands, and pull him back in to finish the kiss.

He tasted of popcorn butter and raspberry slushy. He tasted like sincerity and safety. He tasted like a future you’d never yearned for. You’d always lived in the moment, but he made you want to make plans. He tasted like all the jokes that rolled off his tongue. He tasted like laughter and loving glances.

You two stand just out of the rain, in front of the QuickieBurger, kissing Miles. Both of you smiling into the kiss and barely making contact. You’re soaking wet and hungry, and standing outside a fast food restaurant, your teeth can still feel the initial impact. You couldn’t imagine it being anymore perfect.

The kiss is interrupted by Miles insistent stomach, you pull apart and pull him into the burger shop.

“You made it in first, and you paid for the movie, let me pay for this. It’s only $15, I can get it,” Miles protests.

“I told you. You aren’t paying for anything. I won’t allow it.”

“If you’re sure,” you chuckle at the extent of his protest.

“Look, we don’t have to worry about money,” he couldn’t know exactly how much you had or how you acquired it, but contrary to what the posters say, crime pays very well.

The two of you continue to gush about the movie between bites of greasy burger. You laugh and make jokes, and predictions. You stay in the uncomfortable seating long after you’ve finished eating, and it’s only when you see the employees start cleaning up the dining room that you realize how long you’ve been sitting there talking about absolutely nothing and absolutely everything. 

You slip out shortly before the interior closes for the night, and Miles drives you home. The conversation flows and ebbs. It never feels forced or awkward. Sometimes moments of silence broken only by the music on the radio mix into the conversation. 

He pulls into the garage under your building, and like a gentleman, gets out to walk you to your door. He doesn’t want the conversation to end. You two could talk forever and it wouldn’t be enough. But he disguises the fear of ending the conversation, with a protectiveness in the dangerous city. If only he knew that you were the most dangerous thing in the complex.

The two of you get to your apartment, and you lean on your door. Prolonging. He leans in for another kiss, and you can tell it’s something you’ll never grow tired of. You don’t want him to leave. He doesn’t stop kissing you. Without breaking away from his mouth, you unlock your door.

The briefest thought of your temporary roommate flashes across your mind. You hope he’s already in his room. You don’t want to deal with any awkwardness with your boss. But as soon as the thought pops up, it fades away. 

You open up the door, and take Miles’ hand. You lead him into the dark living room. Your mouth not leaving his as you pull his jacket off and throw it on the couch. You make it to your room before the rest of your clothes come off and you fall into your king sized bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! First kiss! And something more. I've finally got a mild outline now. Do you guys write? Do you outline or figure it out as you go? Or maybe some combination? I definitely use a combination. Very loose outlines and then just figure it out as I write. Some more crook stuff to follow, let's see how quickly I can update this next chapter.


	18. Super Nova

There are several competing new stations in Los Santos. Some are a little shadier than others. Some have more of a slant one way or another. Some straight up lie about the goings on in the city. I mean, the Kingpin can only have so many affairs that his right hand will accept him back from. 

It was one of the seedier ones that had taken Pruitt’s statement, and fortunately for the Fakes, and even more seedy hotel resides across the street. It’s in one of those by-the-hour hotel rooms, that currently houses Fiona “Super Nova”. An informant for the Fake AH Crew and international spy. She had placed bugs inside the news room, and currently sits at the window with a pair of binoculars. She likes going old school, but she had also hacked into the security footage which was playing on a monitor next to her chair.

She has crawlers around town that were following different reporters as they went into the field in the very likely event that Pruitt wanted to meet up in secret. He wasn’t smart, but he wasn’t dumb enough to just walk into the building in broad daylight. 

The crew is hoping that Gavin’s statement scared him off. But Fiona knew this man thought he could get away with shooting the hornet’s nest. She hasn’t been following him for very long, but she already knows how arrogant he is. Thinks the sun shines out of his ass and all that cliché stuff.

She was listening in on a particularly juicy conversation about some local celebrities, when one of the crawlers buzzes in. One of Pruitts lackeys has been spotted with a reporter. The crawler relays the information to Fiona and packs up her gear into her undercover car and makes her way to the secret meeting spot. The crawler stays put and watches while Fiona is on her way over, feeding her the information as she drives. 

Fiona only makes it as the lackey and reporter are parting ways, but she’s been fed the whole interaction as it was happening. She waits in the dark by the reporters car and instructs the crawler to follow the lackey through the comm in her ear.

The reporter makes it back to her car to find Fiona leaning on the driver’s door, body entirely concealed by an oversized coat, and sucking on a lollipop. “Who are you? What’s going on?” The reporter’s voice shakes as she confronts the lone, intimidating woman.

“I think you might have some information, that I might like to know.” Fiona’s casual tone makes the reporter take a step back. Away from her own car. “Aww, don’t be like that, sweetie,” Fiona coddles.

“What do you want?”

“I told you. Just some information. I know who you just met with. I want to know what he told you.” 

“I have a right to confidentiality, and so does he,” the reporter said confidently.

“No,” Fiona shakes her head. “You have a legal right to confidentiality, and unfortunately for you, I’m not a lawyer. So,” Fiona pulls out a gold plated knife and starts playing with it. “We can do things nice and easy, and you can tell me everything, or you can be difficult. It’s up to you, but I’d rather not get my hands dirty if I can help it.”

The reporter visibly gulps, and spills her guts. She tells Fiona everything, and hands over the files at Fiona’s request. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Was it?” Fiona says cheerfully and copies the files onto her device, and hands them back to the confusion of the reporter. “You are still going to do everything he asked you to do. We don’t want his boss getting suspicious. Now, do we?”

The reporter nods and zips into her car.

As soon as the reporter pulls away, Fiona pulls out her phone and calls her own boss. 

~~~~

Fiona pulls up to two figures in the dark forrest. She nods at Geoff and Jack as she gets out of her car. “I think you’ll find this interesting.” Fiona hands over a copy of the files that she’d made on the drive to the woods.

She fills them in, “Turns out. Pruitt wants to hurry us up and cooperate. Surprising I know. But his plan is to air live CCTV footage of Rimmy Tim getting tortured. He wants to shock y’all, and push up the dead line. Emphasis on the dead part. It seems his plan is to rattle the hornet’s nest even more than he already has.”

“Los Santos really will let anything on TV nowadays, huh?” Jack idly complains as she takes the files and checks them on her own device.

“I told the reporter to go ahead as scheduled. We don’t want Pruitt to get sus and bail.”

“And what about the lackey?” Geoff asks.

“I’m having him tailed as we speak.” Fiona holds a comm out to each Geoff and Jack. 

The pair listen in on the comms, as Fiona’s associate follows the lackey to an empty fishing wharf. Narrating as he watches. “Pruitt isn’t here. No one is yet. Just this lackey. He drove in quite a few circles to try to avoid being followed. But you know I’m better than that.” He chuckles. 

“Oh, look. There’s another car pulling up. Someone is actually meeting him out here. I half thought this was a red herring and he’d just be offed or something where there wouldn't be any witnesses.”

“Is that Pruitt? That’s not what I thought he’d look like. Thick dark hair. Tall and skinny. Bad mustache. He’s wearing sunglasses tho. He doesn’t want to be recognized. Even by one of his own. The lackey is real excited. Telling the boss all about how it went down with the reporter. Oh. Oh!” The group hears a gunshot. “He shot the lackey! I’m getting out of here!” Another gunshot and the comm goes silent. 

“Damn, he saw Pruitt. He would have been so useful.” The only lament Fiona has is the loss of information.

Geoff turns to Jack, but not away from Fiona, “Gavin can’t see that footage. He has to be busy when it airs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! We hit 20k words! I can't believe it! Have a happy Thanksgiving, if you celebrate.


	19. Kerry's Back From His Long Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles is back at work. Kerry finally returns from his long weekend. And our boys get some news.

Miles is a harried mess by the time he reaches the station lobby in his civvies with his uniform in his arms. He hadn’t been planning on a… sleepover after your date last night, but he had fortunately taken home his extra uniform to wash it and accidentally left it in his car.

His hopes to get to the lobby restroom unnoticed before he changed were dashed as he hears an enthusiastic, “Miles!” from behind him. He turns around and at least its not Kyle there to tease him about not being in uniform again. 

“Hey, Kerry! How was your long weekend?”

“Everything I had hoped for. I did absolutely nothing for three days straight,” Kerry says with a relaxed smile before giving Miles a once over. “Why aren’t you in uniform?”

“I didn’t have time to change this morning.”

Kerry gives him a weird look, and Miles can tell he’s not off the hook, but he’s being let go so he can get changed. 

Inside the bathroom stall in the men’s restroom isn’t Miles’ first choice for changing into his uniform, it’s tiny and cramped, but at least Cole and Kyle hadn’t caught him in his civvies in the station for the second time in the last three days. And maybe Kerry won’t put the pieces together. 

Miles’ isn’t really sure why this needs to be a secret. He’s not embarrassed about what happened between the two of you. Maybe it’s just that you’re moving so fast, or that he can’t remember the last time someone made him feel the way you do.

He felt so sure about things when he was around you, and he doesn’t want to jeopardize anything.

Miles gets to his desk after his quick change, and Kyle looks up at him, “Wow, dude, you look like shit. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“You know,” Miles tries to say innocently, “I really didn’t.”

Miles can already hear the exchange. Kyle giving him some look or saying something, and Miles has to reassert that he is a gentleman. But before Kyle can say anything, Kerry says without looking up from his computer. “Is that why you had to change in the bathroom?”

Miles goes wide eyed, and swivels around without moving his feet to look at Kerry, but not before he catches the biggest shit eating grin on Kyle’s face.

“You fucking dog!” Kyle says while Miles is staring daggers into Kerry.

“Sounds like a lot happened during my long weekend,” Kerry says. “And I want a recap.”

Miles, red in the face, rolls his eyes and sits down at his desk. He isn’t going to indulge this nonsense. But he doesn’t have to because Kyle is ready to dish every detail he knows to their friend.

For the most part, Miles can tune out the play-by-play. However, some of the loud bits still get through. Like, “What do you mean Jon already knows? I’m your best friend!” 

Not too long later, Kyle and Miles are called into the chief’s office again. Haddock gestures for them to sit down. 

“I wasn’t expecting the results so soon. I even waited until Saturday to even tell you. But the promotion list has been posted. Congratulations! You two are going to be detectives,” Grey smiles and shakes each of their hands. “There’s some paperwork involved; I’ll have it sent to your desks. I want it back by the end of your shift today.”

He nods a dismissal. As the pair leaves, Kyle prods, “So, I guess we get to meet your girl now.”

“What?” Miles responds.

“You said that when we made detective, we’d get to meet her.” By this point they’re within ear shot of Cole and Kerry.

“You guys made detective?” Cole asks.

“We get to meet your girlfriend?” Kerry asks louder.

“Cool,” Miles says, “I guess I’m gonna have to tell her I’m a cop too.”

“Dude, she doesn’t know you’re a cop. How? Why?” Kyle asks.

“I didn’t want to scare her off.”

“How would…?” Kerry trailed off.

“Not every cop is good. Especially in Los Santos. Plus the people that wanted to date me *because* I was a cop were fucking weird.” 

The other three men nod wordlessly at Miles, and they are saved from awkward silence by two matching mountains of paper work being dropped off on the new detectives desks. Miles and Kyle were buried in the glamorous side of police work and all conversation ceased as the two of them scour for questions to answer and places to sign.

Eventually the clock strikes the end of the shift, and Kyle and Miles drop off their stacks with the CO and make their way out of the sterile office.

Miles sits in his car; he takes a few deep breaths and taps on your contact photo. He still didn’t have a picture of you; in your whirlwind thus far the two of you weren’t stopping for selfies yet. But he’d put a picture of a character that you remind him of from his favorite show. 

He calms his breathing as your phone rings. He knows it’s stupid to be this worked up. Especially when everything else between you had been easy enough so far. But you know. Knowing your worry is irrational isn’t all it takes to make it go away. 

You pick up your phone, and Miles hears other voices on the other end. “Oh, hey, am I interrupting anything?”

“Nah, it’s just work stuff.”

“Y’all really burn the candle at both ends, huh?”

“Eh, you know… So… was there a reason for this call?” You chuckle. “Or did you just wanna shoot the shit?”

“Right. There was a reason. A few of my friends were gonna go out for drinks tomorrow evening to celebrate, and we wanted to know if you wanted to join us? They’re very excited to meet you.”

“Yeah, of course. What are we celebrating?”

“My partner and I got promoted.”

“Congratulations!”

“We were both promoted to detective.”

“Oh,” you say a little too flatly, “That’s so cool!” You cheer up your tone, and the voices get louder behind you. “Text me the details. I have to go. Talk to you soon!”  
“See you soon! Bye.” Miles hung up with a sigh. That could’ve gone worse. He texts you the details and then shoots a text to Kyle, Cole, Kerry, Jon, and Blaine.

~~~~

The line clicks off as Miles hangs up the phone. Your hand drops to the floor next to you.

“Shit!” you yell causing Trevor and Gavin to jump.

“What happened?” Trevor says at the same time as Ryan asks “What did he do?”

The pair quickly eye each other before turning their attention back to you.

“He didn’t *do* anything.” You bring your gaze up to meet theirs. “He’s a fucking cop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't recommend trying to write at work. Especially if your work involves children who do want to press all the buttons on your computer while you're typing. Do you have a job? What's the hardest thing about work for you? Mine's when the kids don't nap long enough and wake up as nightmares. I feel like they exclusively do that when I actually have motivation to write while they're asleep.


	20. Bar and Grill Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get to meet Miles' friends!

Maybe it was time Miles learned you owned more than just your favorite motorcycle. You aren’t picking your fanciest car. You aren’t trying to show off that much. A little bit. Just enough for his friends. Which is how you found your self in your Buccaneer on your way to pick up Ryan.

Oh yeah. About that. After Miles called you yesterday…

~~~~

The line clicks off as Miles hangs up the phone. Your hand drops to the floor next to you.

“Shit!” you yell causing Trevor and Gavin to jump.

“What happened?” Trevor says at the same time as Ryan asks “What did he do?”

The pair quickly eye each other before turning their attention back to you.

“He didn’t *do* anything.” You bring your gaze up to meet theirs. “He’s a fucking cop.”

“You’re dating a cop?” Lindsay cackles, “World renown assassin, The Viper, is dating a cop?” You shoot her a glare that make most normal people beg for their lives, however Lindsay and Michael are unfazed in their fit of hysterics.

You notice however, that one of your friends seems less than fazed, and despite being the best grifter you’ve ever met, Gavin’s fake-shock doesn’t fool you.

“Gavin, did you know?”

“I thought you knew! It barely even took a google search to find that.”

This is why you didn’t date. It made you messy. 

“And he wants me to meet his cop friends.” 

“You don’t know all his friends are cops, V.” Gavin says.

“I mean, do you have to go alone? Or could you text him and ask if you could bring a friend?” Trevor asks ever the problem solver.

“You should bring Rye!” Gavin squeals, earning him matching incredulous stares from you and Ryan. “I mean Trevor and I are searching for Jeremy, and Ryan is the least suspicious of us.”

That last sentence earns a loud unison, “Hey!” from the Joneses that Gavin receives in surround sound.

“I thought I was helping find Jeremy? Wouldn’t Trevor be the obvious choice?” Ryan questions.

“Yeah, but her boyf is friends with a certain reporter I thought lovely Ryan might want to see again.”

At this point, Ryan’s incredulity turned into an expression that few had ever experienced and lived to tell tale of. Gavin, however unperturbed, glanced at his phone. “Ah, a certain reporter who just received a text from a certain newly minted detective.”

~~~~

So you’d texted Miles asking if you could bring Ryan with you, and of course he was a sweet heart and said yes.

The drive from Ryan’s place to the bar was uneventful while you white knuckled the steering wheel, still a little angry at yourself for not even googling the dude after you met him. You’d even double checked the internet on your current alias to see what he might have found out about you.

Downtown parking around the bar was the nightmare it normally was, even for a Tuesday evening. The bar wasn’t even packed, but there were always tourists wandering around, drunk in the middle of the week. You’d even passed a stumbling bride-to-be surrounded by a gaggle of matching bridesmaids having a “last fling before the ring” on the walk from the parking garage to the bar. 

You text Miles that you’ve arrived, but before the message can even send you hear your name. Miles greets you with a kiss on your cheek, and leads you over to his table. He gives the table Ryan and your names.

Then he goes down the row to introduce his friends, “This is Kyle my partner,” he gestures at a very fit man with amazing eyebrows. “Cole,” Probably the same height as Miles, but a bean pole, “and Kerry are partners.” You can only describe Kerry as friend shaped.

“At work? Or?” You clarify.

Miles chuckles. “At work. They’re detectives.” He moves on to the last person at the table. “This is Jon.” Oh, this was Ryan’s reporter. Damn. Ok, you understood. “And,” Miles adds looking at the entrance, “That’s Blaine.” Miles waves his hand to catch his friend’s attention.

“I didn’t realize you were friends with body builders,” you look at Miles.

And without missing a beat Cole says, “Thank you. It’s about time someone noticed.”

You were less worried about his cop friends. 

“I swear that director is never happy with any goddamn take,” Blaine says when he finally makes it to the table.

“Oh, actor?” You ask.

From the other side of the table, Jon says a little too loud, “Yeah, porn,” earning him a loud guffaw from Ryan and an unimpressed look from Blaine. 

“I thought we were gonna be nice for Miles’ girlfriend.”

“I never promised that,” Jon defended.

“So,” Blaine looks at you, deciding that he wasn’t going to keep bickering with Jon. “I’m not an actor, but thanks. I actually won’t have to deal with this director too much longer because I finally got the green light on my own show, Good Morning from Hell.”

A round of congratulations for Blaine’s good news.

“How did you and Miles meet?” Blaine asked turning the attention back to you.

“We ran into each other at the grocery store.”

Miles laughed more than the bad joke deserved, and filled in the story. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and I ended up breaking the whole carton of eggs she was holding. So I took her out for coffee to make up for leaving her with egg on her face.”

“And I only agreed because, yes, he used that terrible pun while I was actually covered in eggs.” Your addition earned some laughter from the group.

“Where are you from?” Kyle asks.

“Middle of nowhere. Flyover state. Couldn’t handle the boredom so I left.”

“What brought you to Los Santos?” Cole asks.

“Well, my tour ended, and I had no where to go back to. I figured I’d tried living in BFE and didn’t like that, and I’d worked in some outskirt desert towns and didn’t like that. So I thought I’d throw my hat into the rat race. And, well, I’m still here.”

“Tour?” Miles asks.

“Yeah, I don’t really talk about my service much. People get weird about it. I wasn’t, like, trying to ‘be a hero’ or anything. I was just broke and desperate.”

This beat of silence was why you didn’t normally talk about it, but also because serving was what set you on track to becoming an assassin.


	21. Bar and Grill Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And because I'm weird about wanting my chapters all the same-ish length, this is part 2.

“Miles said you worked in acquisitions. What does that mean?” Kerry asks.

“I mean. It’s not glamorous.”  
“Based on the car you drove here, it must be a nice job at least.” Blaine comments.

You laugh. “Oh for sure. It’s like stupid money, and it’s not like I’m adding anything to the world like art or something. I just help my company buy smaller companies.”

“Oh,” Kerry says. “That always sounded like a fake job that no one actually had.”

You hear Ryan snort from next to Jon.

“Well, I can assure you that it’s just too boring for anyone to talk about.”

“What do you do when you aren’t at your boring job?” Kyle asks.

“Oh. Umm,” you hemmed and hawed since you had few legal hobbies. “I play video games. That was one of the things we had in common from the beginning. Oh! I race sometimes.”

“You what?” Miles asks.

“Yeah, I like to go to the race track sometimes. Ryan does too. So do some of my other coworkers.”

“All,” Ryan corrects. 

“Wow. Who knew office workers were such adrenaline junkies?” Kyle says.

You just laugh, “You have no idea.”

“She also sings,” Ryan says.

You stare daggers at Ryan, while you get some positive responses about the singing, he was supposed to be your backup. 

“And you play the piano,” you aren’t really sure if you’re successfully embarrassing him back until you see Jon’s eyes light up.

“Me too!” Jon says, and you realize how bad you are at social revenge.

Kyle slams his hands onto the table, which attracts some attention, and yells, “Are you a murderer?”

“You’re gonna have to get better at your interrogation tactics, detective,” you laugh. “But no. I’m not a murderer. Not anymore,” you say with a wink.

“Any crime in your past?” Kerry asks.

“Normal stuff. When I was younger I shop lifted, but I was also broke and desperate. And if I’m being honest, I’m really glad I didn’t pay money for Call of Duty: Ghosts.” That earned some chuckles from the table. 

“So,” you try to turn the tables to learn something about Miles’ friends since they’ve learned so much real information about you. “How did you all meet Miles?”

Kerry and Cole, in unison, say work.

Kyle says, “We were roommates in college actually. We studied criminology. Definitely thought I was gonna lose track of him when we graduated, but I just couldn’t shake him.”

You look to Blaine, he’s the only one that isn’t related to crime in some way, which piqued your curiosity. “And you?”

“Oh, like, forever ago when I was just an unpaid intern working on a shitty horror movie, the director claimed he was getting death threats and demanded the LSPD send him a body guard and look into it. 

“And Miles, I still don’t know what you did to your boss to make them hate you enough to send you over to this set, but man. So Miles was this dude’s body guard for like a week, while the cops looked into things. However, this guy was a Grade A douche, and he went off on me about some bullshit thing. I think his coffee was wrong?” Blaine looks at Miles for confirmation, and then continues. 

“And everyone just stood there, with their thumbs in their asses, watching this director take his bad day out on this 19 year old intern. Except for Miles. He told the director off, and was immediately fired. Turns out he was faking the death threats for publicity and is in jail now.”

“What?!” You pick your jaw up off the floor, “What a twist!”

You turn to Jon, “You got a tough act to follow, Jon.”

Jon chuckles, “Back when I was a rookie reporter, see.” He says in an old time-y voice, before switching back to normal for the rest of the story. “I hadn’t been in the field for too long, and I was writing an article. It was about a Fake AH bank heist. I needed real sources. I wasn’t going to report on rumors. But I didn’t have any real contacts yet, so I went to the station hoping anyone would talk to me, and Miles did. He’d been on the scene and told me the few details he could.” He pauses for a second, and remembers. “Oh, it was the first heist they did with The Viper wasn’t it?”

You swallow your drink a little too quickly causing you to cough. “That’s really cool!” you try to play it off as a different kind of shock. You turn to Miles, “You were on the case for The Viper’s first heist?”

He chuckles, “It was all hands on deck. Our precinct is actually the one tasked with taking down the Fakes.”

You and Ryan share a quick glance. 

The group falls into less forced conversation. No more scripted get-to-know-each-other questions. A few inside jokes fly over your head that Miles tries to explain to you, but it’s definitely a you had to be there kind of thing. Jon and Ryan mostly talk to each other, ignoring the rest of the table. So much for backup. There’s some nonsense argument, you think it’s about an anime. You look at Miles getting heated, and you just think, “What a dork,” and you look at him harder and think, “But he’s my dork.”

You get a text from Trevor telling you to call him as soon as your dinner is over.

When the argument has calmed and everyone is laughing again, you tell Miles that you’re going to have to go soon. You stand up, “It was great meeting you all, and I’ve never had such a nice time being interrogated by cops.” You kiss Miles goodbye.

“That’s my ride,” Ryan stands up after you, “It was nice crashing, nice meeting y’all.”

Jon quietly, “She doesn’t have to be your ride.”

“Unfortunately, it’s a work thing,” you say.

A chorus of “Really?” rings from the table.

You do the quickest of time zone math in your head, “Lunch just ended in Tokyo, and duty calls.”

You kiss Miles again, and head to your car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited to get to this part again. I think it's a lot more natural than the first draft. I still love Blaine's story so much. Miles is such a sweetie. But you know, things are looking up a little too much for you, our heroine. Hmmm, I wonder why Trevor texted you...


	22. Viper and The Vagabond

You call Trevor as soon as you leave the bar and are back in the privacy of your Buccaneer. The search for Jeremy has been narrowed down to just two properties. One property is a series warehouses at the same location, and the other is a smaller warehouse by the docks.

The Plan: Split the available Fakes into two groups. A larger group for the larger series of warehouses, and the two of you go to the docks and deal with the smaller one. You’re to go to the docks and wait for Trevor’s signal before you sneak in. It’s very important that the two groups go in at the same time to prevent one location from alerting the other. 

Your only goal is to find Jeremy, but you and Ryan seem on the same page that the two of you are the only living things leaving that building. Gotta send a message, right? You don’t fuck with the Fake AH crew. Not if you want to live.

So, you drive to the docks. You park far away, to detract suspicion. You’d rather not have a burn this car if you could help it. You had some old beaters in your garage that you would have taken if you’d have known this was going to turn into a job, but alas. 

You and Ryan hide from the warehouse, waiting for any signal through your comms. You kept some spare clothes and weapons in all of your cars, and in some other safe hidden spaces around Los Santos. So the two of you are properly dolled up as the Viper and the Vagabond, with some quality guns to match. 

You watch the warehouse, paying attention to the movement of the guards, how often were the rounds, were there any guard switches between the time you got here and whenever Trevor tells you to go. Is there anything out of the ordinary going on? The two of you had been on enough stakeouts that you know what to look for. Is there anything these guards are doing that’s distinctive? Are they walking like military trained combatants? Are they wearing specific boots or haircuts? 

You two watch and analyze… until. Your comms crackle to life, and “Are you guys ready?”

“Ready to clean up some scum and save Jeremy?” Ryan asks, “Never been more ready.”

You grunt an affirmative.

“All right. On my mark,” he pauses, probably clearing things with the other team. “Now!”

The two of you sneak down to the ware house. As silently as possible. Two ghosts ready to haunt the shit out of these guards. The outermost rim of guards don’t see anything coming before their demise. You try to leave no stone unturned, or rather no guard left alive as you make your ways closer and closer to the building.

You weren’t sure of the other group’s plan exactly, and they might be going in guns blazing. But they should know your style by now. Unseen. Never noticed. At least that was always your goal, and definitely your MO before the Fakes.

Guard after guard left limp on the ground, and you finally reach the door. You use a lifeless arm to bypass the finger scanner. You try to take down as many guards as you can silently before anyone notices, however, once inside the warehouse, that becomes an impossible task.

People have noticed the slaughter, and the two criminals behind it. All movement in the warehouse stops for a long second, before suddenly eyes fall on you. You jump behind a convenient stack of crate just before the gunfire.

You let loose a blind round from behind the your crates. You hear some bodies hit the floor, but not enough for the barrage to lighten up any. You look around you. No one converging on you yet, but it’s only a matter of moments. What is in these crates anyway?

Unfortunately it’s not an entire stack of guns or grenades, but you know what? A crate of C4 should be good enough. You hoist the crate up in the air, and pull a lighter out of your jacket pocket. It was a good tip you’d gotten years ago to always carry a lighter. You light the box at a corner which should give you the most amount of time between lighting and detonating. You give Ryan a quick warning through your comm before you jump out from your cover and throw the burning crate into the most condensed group of goons you see.

You quickly hide back behind your crate and plug your ears hoping that will do any part of saving them from the explosion. Gunfire died down for a good hot second, and you take advantage of the confusion, and jump out from your hiding spot again, running to the next stack of crates, with another round of bullets into the crowds.

“Ryan, can you see how many guys are left on the ground?”

“I’m not on the first floor anymore. I figured your bomb was a good explosion to get out of the fray and look for Lil J.”

“I guess I’ll keep them distracted down here.”

You step out from behind your new crate and unload another round into what’s left of the crowd. You look around the room before jumping back behind cover. You think your makeshift bomb really helped thin the numbers. The gunfire aimed at you seems to lessen with every wave of gunfire you unleash, until it eerily stops.

There is no way you’ve killed every single goon on the first floor. “Ryan, things have gone silent down here. Which means they’re regrouping on one of us.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” There’s a dark tone in his voice. You knew that darkness. He isn’t Ryan right now. The Vagabond has taken over.

You peak out of your hiding spot, only to come face to face with a goon who’d been trying to sneak up on you. “Nice try,” you tell him before blasting his face off. He wasn’t alone in trying to catch you off guard behind your pile of crates. Fortunately they didn’t take you by surprise and you off them one by one as they come around to you. You quickly set this stack of crates on fire before rushing off to the next stack.

There aren’t too many stacks to hide behind. But you don’t need to hide behind here for too much longer. You’ve almost cleared out this first floor, and are on your way up to the second to find the Vagabond.

You follow the trail of corpses like breadcrumbs and find your best friend standing over a bleeding man. The Vagabond is holding a dripping knife, his eyes blown out and wild. The man beneath him cowering, “I don’t know where they’re keeping Rimmy Tim! I told you that.”

“Then I guess you’re of no use to me,” the Vagabond laughs before slitting the man’s throat.

“So, no luck finding Lil J, huh?” you ask rhetorically.

“Is there a basement?” Ryan asks back, but before you can answer, a loud slam rings through the warehouse. “More guards?”

You peak out of the door to the new guests to your slaughter, and quickly shut the door, hiding behind it. “Fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! More action scenes... my... favorite. I need to practice writing action sequences better, or just figure out what's going on in a scene before I write it. Anyway... who is your uninvited visitor?


	23. And You Thought this Wouldn't Be Interesting

Shortly after you leave, everyone but Blaine gets a call or text. “Ah, crime,” Blaine finishes his beer. “I guess I’ll see y’all later then.” 

He was right. The crew was being called back to the station. Everyone was needed. And before he could ask, “Sorry, Jon. No ride-alongs for this one,” Kyle says leaving some cash on the table.

The four rush to the station, where most everyone else is also still in civvies. “There’s a Fake AH skirmish going on in the warehouse district! I need all officers and detectives in uniform and back here for briefing in five!” Chief Haddock yells to the bullpen. “Luna! Taylor! Come here.”

Miles and Kyle stay behind to talk to the CO. “I need everyone else in the warehouse district. But there’s also something else going on down by the docks that I need you two to check out. It’s smaller, but it still needs our presence.” Haddock fills the two in on the details and dismissed them to get into uniform while the rest of the station comes back, in uniform, for their mission brief.

Miles and Kyle run into the locker room to get changed. “Why single us out to not get in on the fun action?” Kyle idly complains. “I want to take down the Fakes.”

Miles gave Kyle a look. “I’m going to assume some sort of seniority. We’re the newest detectives so we have to check out the small thing. But you never know, it might be more interesting.”

“Yeah, right.”

The pair hop into their cruiser as they’re still too new to have the better detective car, and make their way down to the docks. They pull up right to the warehouse, passing any further parking spots and any familiar cars.

The area is littered with the fallen bodies of guards. Miles checks one of the bodies, “No pulse,” he rifles through his clothes. “Oh, Kyle,” he says stopping Kyle from going on further without him. “I think this is the gang that took Rimmy Tim. We should call for back up.”

“Yeah? The entire precinct, and then some is headed to the opposite side of the city. How are they going to get here in any reasonable time to help us.”

“I know. I know. We’re alone out here, aren’t we?”

“I’m not going to sit around and wait for back up, that could be hours while they deal with whatever is going on over there.”

Miles knew Kyle was right, but he thought he should at least voice what they were supposed to do. Going in alone against potential Fakes was a death sentence, but you know? This is his job. This is what they signed up for. 

They listen for anything going on in the warehouse, but it’s silent. Are they too late? Are the people responsible for this slaughter gone? They open the door. They try to be quiet but an unexpected gush of air slams the door open. “Shit!” Kyle whispers loudly, and they look around and step inside. 

There’s no people that they can see. Well, no alive people, anyway. There is a burning pile of crates, and what was clearly an explosion. They explore the first floor, guns drawn, looking for any sign of life. 

“And you thought this wouldn’t be interesting,” Miles whispers.

“You know what?” Kyle fake threatens.

After several long minutes of searching the first floor to no avail, a noise sounds from the upper floor. They share a quick glance before separating, and going up two different set of stairs to get up there. The bodies in this second floor are even worse than the first. 

The bodies downstairs were merely shot, or in a few cases, blown up. But these? Miles gagged. An empty gag. Even in all his training, he’s never dealt with this. They are mutilated. Cuts from a sharp knife. It looks more like the back of a butcher’s shop than a warehouse where humans once were. The killings downstairs look merciful compared to the second floor.  
This meant two things. One. There was clearly more than one person here. And two. This was clearly the work of the Vagabond. 

Miles stops for a second to catch his breath. A deep breath to slow the shaking his hands were so desperately fighting for. A deep breath to lower the bile rising to leave his stomach. A deep breath to quiet the loud thrumming in his ears as his heart raced inside his chest. A deep breath to refocus his eyes as they got overwhelmed by the bloody mangled corpses littering the floor. A deep breath that couldn’t stop the stench of fresh, metallic blood from assaulting his nose. A deep breath and he was ready to do his job again.

Where had the sound come from? It echoed around the mostly empty warehouse. Clearly from the second floor. But what part? Miles tries to think back and trace the origin of the stairs. He meets Kyle in front of one of the office doors. They were thinking the same thing. There aren’t too many closed off spaces in the warehouse. 

This had to be the room. Someone was in here. Whether it was a survivor of the attack or the attackers? They didn’t have all the answers, but they could open the door to find out.

Kyle reaches for the door knob. He looks at Miles and counts down silently. “3.. 2..” He opens the door, revealing two figures. Both in leather jackets, face paint, and heavily armed. Miles looks into the room, at the figure he’s pointing his gun at. A face he would recognize anywhere, even hidden and distorted beneath grease paint. 

Your name tumbles out of Miles lips. Disbelief painting your name. But he knows. He knows who you are. “You’re the Viper?”

You try to speak, but words can’t escape your lips. 

“I told you she could be a murderer,” Kyle says to Miles, keeping his gun trained on Ryan’s chest.

“You know, Kyle? Really not the time for that.”

“Does that make the Vagabond… Ryan?” Kyle asks, thinking back to the guy at the bar with glasses and white sneakers.

“Congratulations,” Ryan says. “You’ve figured it out. Time to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dramatic Music* I know, if you read the first one, this isn't a surprise. But I still love the drama of it all. However, do the stars still hold the same fate for our heroes?


	24. Safe at Last

“Does that make the Vagabond… Ryan?” Kyle asks, thinking back to the guy at the bar with glasses and white sneakers.

“Congratulations,” Ryan says. “You’ve figured it out. Time to die.”

~~~~

“Ryan, no!” you yell.

But before Ryan can carry out his threat, a voice booms through the comms. “We’ve got Jeremy! We can hear the cops, so we’re running. Be careful, they might be on their way to you, too.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, much to the confusion of the cops holding you at gun point. “We know, we’re dealing with the cops now.”

Miles and Kyle share an almost glance, “What?” Kyle asks before Ryan kicks his gun away disarming him.

At the same time, you grab Miles’ gun out of his hand, with probably too much confidence that he wouldn’t shoot you. But he didn’t, so you were right.

“What the fuck?” Miles asks. “Did you know I was a cop this whole time? Was this a set up or something?”

“No! No, trust me. I didn’t know anything until you told me yesterday.”

“Then what? You just hoped I’d never find out?”

“I mean, yeah, that was my plan so far. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

“So,” Ryan interrupted. “I don’t get to kill the cops who know our identities?”

You shoot a glance in his direction sharper than any of his throwing knives. “No, Ryan, we are not killing them. Did the Vagabond not get his fix with that guy?” You point to the mangled corpse behind him, still spewing blood but certainly dead now. Which draws a gag from the civilians.

“You know,” you put your gun away. “I’d personally rather have this fight somewhere that doesn’t stink of blood. Can we at least go outside?”

Ryan looks at you skeptically, and the radio both Miles and Kyle are wearing crackles to life, “10-101? What’s the status of the warehouse?”

“10-23,” Miles says into his radio drawing three sets of eyes, “We’ve arrived. There’s a lot of bodies here, but no gunmen. We must have just missed them.”

“10-4, we’ll send a CSI unit your way. Over and out.”

“Well, I guess you have to get out of here anyway,” Miles looks at you.

“Miles,” You start.

But before you can say more he cuts you off, “We’ll talk about this later. Just go.” He picks up his gun from where you threw it.

You hesitate for another moment despite Ryan stalking out of the room. “Just go.” Miles says again after Kyle has also retrieved his own gun.

After sally making it out of the warehouse, Ryan takes off his mask, and does his best to wipe off the face paint before pulling a baseball cap out of somewhere to hide his face as best he can as you make your way back to your car. The walk to your car is silent enough.

But once inside, Ryan grabs the makeup wipes you keep in your glovebox, “Well, that didn’t take long. You found out he was a cop, what? Yesterday? And now he knows who you are.”

“I should have had a better plan for this.”

“You think?” 

You shoot him another glare, but that ship has sailed. It’s been a long time since he was threatened by you, and vice versa. He could be infuriating, but you knew he was all talk, at least to the crew. “Yeah? And you got a plan for when Jon finds out?”

“He’s not going to find out, and he isn’t a cop.”

“Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry. He’s only the biggest crime reporter in Los Santos. He won’t ever figure it out.”

You stop at a truck stop to properly wash up before heading home. You liked this apartment well enough, and didn’t need any nosy neighbors in your business. You drop Ryan off at his place.

Your apartment is empty. It’s quiet. You’d gotten used to the hustle and bustle of the crew in your apartment. The silence was suffocating. You bury yourself in blankets on your couch, and pull out your laptop. Since when did you get so hung up about some guy? You usually had one foot out the door, ready to leave at the slightest inconvenience.

When your phone rings, you hate the slight disappointment you feel that it wasn’t Miles. But he was definitely still dealing with the crime scene you left him. Before you can even greet her, Lindsay asks, “Where are you guys?”

“I’m at my apartment. Were we supposed to meet up?”

“I guess we didn’t tell you, huh? Wanna meet us at Safe House Epsilon?”

“As much as I don’t feel like moving, I also can’t stand how quiet it is here. Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be on my way.”

“Whoo!” Lindsay yelled into your ear, clearly still hopped up on adrenaline. 

You get up from the couch and take a scalding shower, washing off all the paint, blood, debris, and guilt. You pull your favorite leather jacket on over a t shirt, and head out the door.

~~~~

You’re a little surprised to see Ryan also at the safe house. He walks over to you to greet you, but whispers, “I haven’t told anyone. I figured that would be your burden to bear.” And he’s off to the fridge to get another Diet Coke.

You put on a fake smile, before Lindsay attacks you in a hug making you smile for real. “He’s fucking safe!” She ushers you over to Jeremy. He’s on a stretcher, covered in bandages and hooked up to some IVs, but he’s awake and smiling.

You give him a gentle hug, trying not to pull on any of his lines, but he grabs you back and squeezes you until you squeak. You laugh, “I really missed you, kid.”

“Hey, we’re almost the same age!” He barks.

You look him up and down. At the bandages on his ribs. At his black eye. At the cuts across his face. “They really wanted to mess up your pretty face, huh?”

He laughs, “Sorry, ma’am, but I’m taken now.” 

“You’re what, now!?” you yell.

“Yeah, Gavin and I are an actual thing now!” 

He must have heard his name because the next thing you see is Gavin walking over with a glass of, well, you hope its water, but with these assholes, you can never be sure. 

“Congrats, you two!” You grab Gavin for a hug.

“I mean, you’re taken too,” Lindsay says, “I don’t know how much Miles would appreciate you calling other men pretty.”

You shrug, and look around awkwardly. “We’ll have to see about that, I guess.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Lindsay asks.

“Miles knows.”

“He knows what?” 

“The cops we ran into at the warehouse,” you pause, gathering yourself to tell them, as Lindsay stares at you, eyes wide and filled with concern. “Miles and his partner. They know.” You take a deep breath and repeat, “They fucking know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was deceptively hard to write. But I like how it turned out even if it got completely away from the original plan. Also, I really liked writing Jeremy in the last one, and didn't really mean to write him out of most of this one. Oh no, I guess that just means I'll have to write something later with more Jeremy in it.


	25. They Fucking Know

“Hey, Miles!” Kyle says after you two leave. “What the fuck was that? You just let the Viper and the Vagabond go.”

“I know,” Miles says, looking pained. “Why did I do that?”

“That’s what happens when you’re thinking with your dick instead of your brain.”

“I don’t- no?” Miles says, “I don’t think that’s what I was doing.” 

“You’ve known this chick for less than a week! How can you trust her this much?”

“I don’t know, but I do. Maybe it’s stupid, and she’s going to sic the entire Fake AH crew on me the minute they’re out of here. But something tells me she won’t.”

“You know, I just have so much faith in our local assassins, too. Of course they won’t kill us. Why would they do that?” 

“Fine, you don’t have to trust her, but can you trust me? You’re my best friend, Kyle. I wouldn’t do anything that would kill you.”

“I thought that too, but I’m not so sure of that now.” The pair steps outside to the parking lot to wait for CSI.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure the Vagabond is a mercenary, not an assassin,” Miles says.

“You know? That’s so far from being the point.” They’re silent for a few minutes before Kyle starts speaking again. “I really can’t believe how much you didn’t want me to look up her name to see if she was a murderer. And then, not only is she. But she’s a fucking assassin.”

“I guess it only makes me feel better to point out, that her online record is probably clean. The Fakes are really good at cleaning up their online foot print.”

“My only advice was to not date a murderer. I really didn’t think it’d be that hard for you to listen.”

“You know what?” Miles starts to threaten before they hear a truck enter the parking lot.

Once the CSI truck parks, crime scene techs spill out like a clown car, and two head techs step out and separate the detectives for questioning. Miles tells his tech that by the time they got to the warehouse there was no one left alive.

He’s still close enough that he can hear Kyle’s answers, “Yeah, we could tell there were two gunmen because of the different methods and the sheer number of bodies, but by the time we got here, they must have left already. I have an idea who our suspects are, but we didn’t see anyone.”

Miles breaths a silent sigh, as he hears Kyle’s trust in him.

~~~~

“Miles and his partner. They know.” You take a deep breath and repeat, “They fucking know.”

“Have you told Treyco?” Gavin asks.

“I haven’t seen him to tell him yet, but I guess I should probably go find him,” you say. “Jeremy, I’m so glad you’re ok. You had us all so worried.” You squeeze his hand, “Love you, bud.” You turn on your heel to go find Trevor.

You don’t see him at first, so you have to ask around. Michael finally points you in the right direction.

“Hey, V!” Trevor seems excited to see you. You feel bad about bringing down the mood of the party, but when you’d glanced back at Lil J and Gav, they seem to be partying again. 

“Hi, Trevor. I need to talk to you.”  
“Oh, that sounds serious. Do we need to go to my office?” 

“You know what, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea actually.”

Once inside the office, Trevor asks, “So, what’s going on? We were going to do a debrief in the morning,”

“Yeah, this is a little more urgent, and I honestly don’t know what to do about it.”

Trevor gestures for you to sit down, and then sits himself, and you fill him in on everything that happened at the warehouse. You don’t start from the beginning. He doesn’t need to know about the gun fight or your cool make-shift bombs. He doesn’t need to know about the Vagabond’s torture. You skip right to the meat of what’s going on.

“You know, how I learned yesterday that Miles is a cop?” Trevor nods. “He was at the warehouse. Just him and his partner.” Trevor’s nods get more cautious. “They saw us, and we let them live.”

Trevor hums a, “Mmhmm.” He puts a hand to his face and you can see the gears turning in his head as he imagines every possible scenario to come out of this. “Has he told anyone else, yet?”

“No, he radioed in that the gunmen were gone, and told us to leave before CSI got there.”

“Interesting… Do you trust him?”

“Yes, of course,” you say without thinking, and then realize that you do. You do trust him that much.

“Do you trust his partner?”

“I only met him today, but I know I trust Miles, and maybe I’m dumb for trusting him, and he told the entire police force the minute I left, but something in my gut just tells me he won’t.”

“I’d love to say that your trust is good enough for me, and on most things it would be. But for this, it’s not. I need to make a few calls.” He puts his hand to his ear, turning his comm on, “Gavin? Can you come to my office?”

“You aren’t going to kill them, are you?”

“I don’t want to, but I can’t promise anything right now. You can stay in here and listen if you want, but I need Gavin first.”

You appreciate the honesty, but you really don’t like the situation you’ve put everyone in. 

The door opens, and the Brit walks in. He sees you sitting down in front of the desk. “Alright, Trevvy, what’s the plan?”

Trevor starts explaining what happened but Gavin cuts him off and tells him that he knows. “Oh?” Trevor asks you, “Does everyone know?”

“I only told Lindsay, Gavin, and Jeremy.”

“Fine. We’ll have a meeting about this later.” He turns to Gavin. “I need Miles’ phone number and one of the secure lines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, some tests of trust here.


	26. Discussions

It felt like hours before CSI let them leave. As soon as the doors were shut in the cruiser, Miles says, “Thank you for trusting me.”

Kyle doesn’t answer. Just starts the car and peels out of the parking lot.

The pair drive back to the station in the cruiser in a tense silence before Miles’ phone buzzes. The Caller ID reads, “BLOCKED NUMBER”

“Fucking spam calls,” Miles mumbles before hitting the green button. “This is Miles.” He says in a less than cheery voice to what he assumes is a robot caller.

“Hello, Miles.” The voice on the other end is decidedly not a robot, and almost sounds familiar. “It’s come to me attention that you’ve discovered something tonight.”

Miles sends a quick look to Kyle, who’s driving and can definitely hear Miles’ phone, “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s a good answer. Except I’m speaking on behalf of the other parties involved.”

Shit! There’s no fucking way. Nope. The Fake AH Crew is not on Miles’ phone. No. No. No they weren’t. There’s no way. No. No way.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Are you alone?” The voice asks.

Miles looks at Kyle, “Yes.”

“That’s a real shame. I was hoping to do this in one call, so I wouldn’t have to repeat everything to your partner, Detective Taylor.”

Kyle looks over and nods at him, “Fine,” Miles says. “Kyle’s here, too.”

“Can I get a confirmation of that, Detective Taylor?”

“This is Detective Taylor.” Kyle doesn’t take his eyes off the road anymore.

“I’ve been made aware that the two of you know something. Something that people aren’t supposed to know and live. I just need to make it very clear, that we will know if anyone else finds out. And you won’t want to know what we will do to you two if that happens. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.” They both say in unison.

“Then we have an agreement, and you two can keep living your lives, as long as you uphold your end of this arrangement.” The line clicks dead a few minutes before the pair make it to the station.

“Fuck,” Kyle says. “What the fuck? Did we just get threatened personally by the most powerful gang in San Andreas?”

“I think we did, but I also think that we get to live as long as we keep our mouths shut.”

“You realize we are part of the precinct in charge of finding the Fakes, right? How the fuck are we supposed to do that if we’re hiding that we know the secret identities of two of them? And you are fucking one of them?”

“It doesn’t really seem like we have a choice. And if one of us blabs, we both die. Ok?” Miles says as they pull into their assigned parking spot.

Kyle rolls his eyes and sighs, “Yeah, fine.”

~~~~

“If you trust him, then now I do,” Trevor says as he hangs up the secure line.

“Well, now that that’s all sorted out,” you stand up.  
“Hold on, Gavin, you can go, but we still need to talk about you,” Trevor looks at you.

Gavin leaves the room. “Do you think now that I know Miles is a cop that I’m suddenly going to betray you all and turn you in?”

“No, but it might mean you hesitate when we’re being chased by cops because you don’t want to shoot your boyfriend.”

You hadn’t thought about that.

“I don’t doubt your loyalty, but this could still be dangerous for everyone involved. It’s my job to keep everyone in this crew alive.”

You nod.

“Just something to think about.” He shoos you out of the room. 

You leave Trevor in his office. Only a little sorry that you ruined his celebration. You head over to the little crowd around where Jeremy was laying. You spend a little time with the group, making jokes and listening to Lil J recount his kidnapping. He told the story like an action movie and not like the torture that he’d been through. 

After an hour or two Jeremy started crashing. Too tired for jokes anymore. Too tired for company. After all the action, everyone else was pretty tired too. The small group disperses. A few making the trek back to the city to sleep in their own beds. You don’t want to drive back home, so you find a spare couch and collapse. 

You definitely don’t think about how you didn’t get a good night text.

~~~~

A buzzing noise snaps you out of fitful dreams. You grab your phone, but it’s not an alarm. “Hello?” You answer. 

“Good morning,” Miles’ voice isn’t as cheery as his words would imply. “Well, almost afternoon I guess.”

You look to the windows, which despite being covered by black-out curtains, still let some light through.

“So,” he starts. “I was thinking, that since we’ve both had a chance to think, that maybe we should talk about things.”

“Yeah, of course!” You croak, your throat not quite awake yet. 

~~~~

The sun beats down on the outskirts of Los Santos. It’s beautiful, warm, and full of people despite being the middle of the day on a Wednesday. 

You and Miles are squeezed into a small booth at a run down diner. You both really wanted breakfast, but most places had stopped serving hours ago. When you first got to the restaurant, it was awkward with Miles for the first time ever. Things had gone so smoothly and so fast before. You didn’t talk to each other until the waitress came back with your drinks.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you say after a long sip of your sweet tea. “Any of this.”

“You know, I was hoping, one day, to make commissioner. Really clean up the streets. Keep the people of Los Santos safe.” He swirls his straw around in his drink. “I don’t think I can do that anymore, can I? Not with the… the,” he whispers, “Fake AH Crew watching my every move.”

“I shouldn’t have let us get this far.” You haven’t made eye contact with him since you walked in. “If I’d have known you were a cop, I wouldn’t have.” You chuckle nervously.

The waitress stopped by to drop off your eggs and waffles.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that too. I should have told you.”

“Look, we were both keeping secrets, and it’s not like we’ve even been together that long.”

“It sure feels like we’ve been together longer than a week.”

A few minutes of silence as you both take bites of your food. “Is this?” You start. “Is this the end? Is this a break up?” The biggest question that’s been nagging at your mind. 

He lets out a dry laugh. “Every rational part of my brain is telling me it should be. Hell, Kyle even told me I was stupid for trusting you. And after that phone call, I’m starting to think I’m stupid for trusting you. But…” He stops to collect his thoughts. “But I don’t want this to be goodbye. Maybe I am an idiot, but I still like you.”

You place your hand on his. “I like you too. I keep a set of luggage in my apartment. Always packed in case I have to leave in the middle of the night without a trace. I’ve lived that way since I first left home. I learned not to get too attached to things or people. I think I could even run from the crew if I really had to. But you?” You look Miles in the eye for the first time today. “You managed to burrow your way into my heart in a way that no one in my life has. Ever. I’ve never been scared that someone would want to leave my life before.”

He puts his free hand on top of yours and just smiles. 

You continue. “I know I can’t make up for the lies and the danger I’ve put you in. But if you want, we can move forward without any secrets?”

“I think I’d like that.”

You say your name. Your real name. The first time you’ve said it out loud since you left the army.

“What?” He questions.

“My real name. The crew doesn’t even know that. Not Ryan. Not Ramsey. Just you.”

He squeezes your hand as the waitress drops off the check. You throw a bunch of bills on top of the receipt, and the two of you get up to walk out of the diner.

The two of you are about at his car, when you stop and just hold him. He hugs you back until you hear foot steps close to you. You break apart quickly, but the man behind you already has a gun out.

“Look,” you say. “You really don’t want to do that.” You know you and Miles both have a gun hidden away.

“If you just walk away, we can forget this ever happened,” Miles says.

“Oh, officer, why would I want to do that?” The strange man asks.

More footsteps. All around you. You count at least four more surrounding you.

“How do you-?” Miles starts to say before he notices the other men around you.

“We can do this the easy way, or the fun way,” the man says.

One of the goons tries to grab you, and instinct kicks in. You use his weight against him to throw him off of you. 

“I should have known the Viper would pick the fun way,” a deranged smile spreads across the man’s face. He signals to one of the men behind you. You hear a thump and Miles crumples to the ground behind you.

You see red, and reach down to pull out your gun, but to no avail. Before you can grab it out of it’s holster, you hear. “Pruitt sends his regards.” Right before your world goes black with another thump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? More trouble for our hero and heroine? Not very surprising for anyone who read v1. 
> 
> This one is long, but too short to break up into two chapters. And let me tell you, I am bad at writing arguments. This took so long and so many revisions before I was happy with it. It's still not even an argument. Don't worry, I'll write a real argument in here at some point.


	27. A Brief History of You

The light hadn’t crept its way into the windows as you roused yourself out of your bedroom and down the stairs toward the snoring at the kitchen table. The light above, never properly shut off for the night, shown down on your mother. Asleep at the table, surrounded by towers of bills and final notices. Her check book in one hand and last bank statement in her other.

You quietly padded over to the table, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, jolting her out of her heavy slumber. “Go to bed, Mom. You need to sleep before work.” You urged her up to her room before you started the coffee pot. You picked up one of the bills on the table. The hospital.

You dad wasn’t doing well. He kept insisting that he didn’t need to go to the hospital. You were only paying for more tests and less answers from the doctors. He was getting weaker by the day, but no one knew why.

Your phone buzzed and pulled you out of your reverie. You looked down at your cracked screen on your old Nokia. You had to wake up your siblings to get them to school on time. You leaned back on the counter, enjoying the sounds of the brewing pot and the buzzing of the overhead light before the kitchen erupts in its morning chaos.

~~~~

It was an unusually warm and bright day for this time of year. You’d been hoping for some seasonal gloom today as you watched the pallbearers walked down the aisle toward the open grave where they would lay your father to rest. The doctors never did figure out what was wrong with him, but they sure were there to witness his last breath.

You didn’t have much time after the ceremony to linger. Not that you were in the mood to hear your father’s extended family moan about his cruelly short life. They’d never much approved of his marriage to your mother. You’d never even met most of these people. They hadn’t helped out to keep him alive, why did they get to care about him in death?

You found your mom and gave her a quick hug and peck on the cheek before running off to change into your uniform. You were sure she would have to deal with the relative’s bitching that you weren’t sticking around. You’d been working at this place for over two years. Your mom had to sign special paperwork to let you work there underage. But they couldn’t fucking give you the day off for your dad’s funeral.

You vowed that one day, no matter what it took, you would never have to worry about money again.

~~~~

They were in the cafeteria one day at lunch during your senior year. You had just turned eighteen. They stood there in crisp, clean uniforms. Handing out pamphlets to every kid that walked by. You heard some magical words from that table. “Better Life” “On The Job Learning” “Free Education” “Financial Freedom” You followed the breadcrumbs of promises all the way to a recruitment sign up form.

You probably should have known better than to trust the promises of strangers, but you still believed in your heart that people were good and that you were doing the right thing. You wanted a better life, and those serpents promised you one.

~~~~

A few weeks after your high school graduation, you were packing a few things for your basic training. Your mom cried as you put the few things you were allowed in a duffel.

“Please don’t go. I’ll get you a job with me,” she pleaded once more.

You smiled at her, “Mom, the hotel won’t let me go to college on their dime or help me buy a house. If I don’t do this, I’ll be waking you up from the kitchen table every morning, and the stacks of bills will only get higher. I’m doing this for all of us.”

Your ride texted you that they were five minutes away. You wanted to leave your car with your family, so you were getting a ride with an old classmate.

You finished packing up and were on your way downstairs when a honk outside signaled you ride’s arrival. You hug your mom one last time before climbing into the nicest car you’d ever ridden in. That wasn’t really saying much since you were leaving behind a 15 year old jalopy.

Your mom watched, teary-eyed, as you pulled away, waving until you couldn’t see her anymore. Maybe after that, too, but you couldn’t see her.

~~~~

An explosion behind you, threw you to the ground and blasted your ear drums. The world was silent for a few long, scary minutes before the ringing took over, followed shortly by yelling that brought you back to the world.

You looked up to see a form in front of you but the face that met yours wasn’t one of the familiar face of your squad mates. He laughed in your face and your world went black.

When you woke up, you were chained to a wall in a dark room. Unable to see anything. You should have been more prepared for this moment, you’d assumed it as an inevitability, but you panicked against your bounds. You pulled and yelled and screamed, until a door opened. A man walked in. He didn’t look armed, but it was dark so you couldn’t tell. He asked you a question in a language you didn’t understand, and when you didn’t answer he punched you in the ribs.

“What? They don’t teach you the language of the people you slaughter?”

You didn’t know then that this was only the first time you’d get kidnapped. That eventually waking up in a cold concrete room would stop scaring you and at best be an inconvenience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't a planned chapter. But I was overcome with the need to write a flashback chapter.


	28. A Vow to Survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic Torture Scenes  
> Depictions of Mutilation with Knives  
> Descriptions of Blood
> 
> (If you're here in the FAHC fandom, it's nothing out of the ordinary or crazy violent, but I just feel like I need a warning here)

Your ears rang louder than the thrumming heartbeat in the back of your head. You blink your eyes open to pitch black. You can’t move your arms or legs. They’re strapped down to some kind of metal chair. You sigh. Not your first rodeo on this side of a kidnapping.

Your eyes just start to adjust to the dark when you hear something shift next to you. You eyes shoot to the sound as you suddenly remember… you weren’t alone when you got kidnapped. Fuck.

“Miles?” you whisper. You don’t want any one outside alerted to your consciousness.

Miles groans awake. You can see in the dim light, his eyes dart around as he remembers the events leading up to your kidnapping. Then they land on you. You lock eyes. A silent conversation. Apologies from both sides. A vow to survive if it’s the last thing you do. You can’t let others be right that trust was the wrong choice.

Your eyes are fully adjusted to the low light, when the doors slam open and a blinding light flickers on. You try to take in your surroundings without breaking eye contact with the vile toad that just entered. Maybe that comparison is unfair to toads everywhere. After all, they’re a vital part of their ecosystems. If this lump dropped dead where he stood no one would bat an eye let alone miss him.

“The fuck do you want, Pruitt?” you spit.

“You Fakes have messed with my business for the last fucking time.”

“Fakes? Me?” you feign innocence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re implying.”

But to your dismay, your taunts are met with a smile. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.” He gestures to the door and two thugs walk in.

“You think this is the first time I’ve been beaten up by brainless goons?” you shoot at him.

Pruitt just chuckles. What is wrong with this guy? You were trying to piss him off, and he was laughing at you. Was he as unhinged as the Vagabond? “No, I know this isn’t your first time all tied up in a room full of men.” The thugs start circling the room. “But this is the first time The Viper has ever had a weakness.”

You focused on keeping your face calm and collected As emotionless as a snake. You tilt you head at Miles. “Y’all think this boy toy is my weakness? You think some man can make The Viper weak?” You roll for deception.

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.” Pruitt nods at the two thugs who each throw a solid punch into Miles gut.

Shit. Fuck. You can’t organize your thoughts. You just keep focus on your poker face. Conceal, don’t feel, and all that.

“Looks like you boys will have to try harder to break The Viper.”

They took more turns with gut punched, before one final blow to his face had Miles slumped over in his chair.

“We need him alive, idiots. She won’t tell us anything if he’s dead. At least not yet.” Pruitt turned to the door. “Let him wake back up.” All three left the room and you were plunged back into darkness.

How long before your crew noticed you were missing? Did you get a ransom like Jeremy? Or was it in the plan to keep you alive at all? If you told them anything, they would surely kill Miles.

~~~~

You try to keep track of the time, but without windows, it’s hard to tell how long you’d been in this room. 

You hear Miles stir again, and ice drops in your stomach. They’d be back if they knew he was awake.

“Miles?” you whisper.

You get no response. You can’t tell if he’s unconscious, unable, or unwilling to answer.

So, you continue anyway. “I love you, Miles. With everything in my being. But if I tell them anything, if I give them what they want, they’ll kill you.”

There was a long beat of silence before you hear, “I know.” You try to look him in the eye, but he’s still a little foggy. “Why would they? Why would they want to keep a cop alive? You’ve got the threat of the Fakes behind you. I know I would want to see the Vagabond rampage they’d get for killing his best friend. But I’m just a cop.”

“I’d avenge you.” Just then, the doors are kicked back open, and you’re blinded by the clinical overhead lights.

Pruitt pushes a metal cart in front of him through the thick metal doors. Dude sure has a thing for aluminum. Eh, the doors are probably steel, but still. Point stands. And a steel cart would be impractical for a torture dungeon.

Pruitt settles himself in front of you and Miles. “I’m sure you know what the next phase is going to be.” He pulls out a scalpel from the cart in front of him. “Just like Rimmy Tim.”

He strides over to you in large quick steps and yanks down your shirt collar revealing your star tattoo. Using the scalpel, he slowly carves a ‘P’ over top of the star. He smiles over his bloody handiwork before moving on to Miles. Using the same dirty scalpel, he carves a matching brand on Miles’ collarbone.

“A matching pair. That’s what Rimmy Tim was missing. Another half.” He walks back to his cart, and grabs a bigger knife. “Now it’s time for the really fun part.” His gaze turns dark as he stalks toward Miles.

~~~~

Blood drips down Miles’ arm, trailing across hid hand and off his fingers until it splatters against the concrete floor. He takes heavy, labored breaths. Trying to stay conscious despite everything in his body screaming to slip under. 

You look at his face. Blood rains from his hairline into his swollen eye. Already starting to darken and bruise. You made a silent vow to yourself that the man responsible for this would never live to regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels weird to even put that warning because this feels like vanilla stuff compared to so many FAHC fics. But also like any other fandom this would be crazy graphic, right? I also have almost all the torture so far kind of off screen. But you know.


	29. Kyle

It’s a normal Wednesday for the LSPD. The station is dusty and full of harsh artificial light. Cops and Detectives sharing the same office space. Chattering about the failed busts the night before. But they’d already gotten reamed for letting the Fan AH Crew get away. They were back to business as usual.

“Hey, guys?” Kyle looks over to Kerry and Cole. “I know we were teasing Miles about being late last week, but it’s been ten minutes with no message. I’m actually getting concerned.”

“He has been running late recently because of his new girlfriend,” Cole doesn’t look up from his screen.

Kyle mumbles, “It’s because of his new girlfriend that I’m worried.” He sits back down, but five more minutes go by. Kyle shoots Miles another text asking where he is. Five more minutes and no response. Kyle tries looking up your name online and in the police records to see if he can find a number. You hadn’t been in Miles’ life long enough for Kyle to have your number.

No luck on tracking you down. The Fakes obviously had very good hackers. Kyle checks the police bulletin in the newspaper as a quick distraction. It doesn’t work, but it does remind him of something. 

He quickly calls Jon. “Hey,” Jon answers. “You gonna give me the scoop on the failed busts from last night?”

“What? No, that’s not why I’m calling. Do you have Ryan’s phone number?”

“Wait,” Jon’s tone drops. “I’ve been trying to turn you for how long? And now that I’m interested in someone, you want him?”

“Jon, I have a girlfriend. You’ve met her.” Kyle rolls his eyes, if he were in a less urgent situation, he might, just might, find Jon’s joking funny, but not right now. “Miles is almost half an hour late for his shift and isn’t answering my texts or calls, and I don’t have his girlfriend’s number.”

“Oh, that actually is serious.” All the joking left his voice. “Let me text you the number.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says and hangs up when he gets the text. He texts the number from his cell phone. “This is Kyle. I got your number from Jon. I can’t get ahold of Miles. I’m getting worried.”

Kyle wasn’t this nervous to send the first message to his girlfriend. He was texting the Vagabond after all, and from inside the police station.

He tried to distract himself again. He didn’t want to pester the most notorious mercenary, well, like, ever. Several long minutes crawled by, when Kyle’s cell phone buzzes against his desk. “I can’t get ahold of her either. I’ve got all our hackers tracking her phone. Even if it’s not still on that should give us a starting place to look. Thank you, Kyle.”

“What can I do to help?” 

“You’ve already let us know something is up. But if there’s anything more, I’ll let you know.” A short pause. “Oh and if you’re tapping this call, I will kill you.”

“Yeah, I know. Let me know if I can help.”

Cool, now it was out of his hands. This definitely made him feel better, right? He did all he can for now. Didn’t feel like a useless lump at all.

“Ok, Kyle,” Kerry says. “It’s been almost an hour with no contact. I’m getting concerned too.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got some guys down at the lab keeping an eye out for him. Making sure he wasn’t in an accident or something.”

“Is that what that call was?” Cole asks.

“Yeah, actually,” Kyle couldn’t believe his excuses were actually working.

 

Some time passes by, Haddock comes out of his cave to see where Miles is. And ha. That’s so funny. Miles must have forgotten to clock in.

Kyle gets a text. It’s a video. Security footage of one of those private parking lots downtown. He doesn’t dwell on how the video was obtained. He’s not exactly being a cop right now. He watches as you and Miles walk on frame hand-in-hand. He knew you two would make up. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but he knew Miles would forgive you.

You two stopped and hugged and then you were being held up by a man Kyle didn’t recognize. You were surrounded and knocked out. Then stuffed into the back of a black van.

Below the video was a still of the license plate. Followed by a few more security photos of the van in traffic and finally one last picture of the van pulling into the driveway of a secluded building.

“Meet in 30 min.” And an address.

Kyle immediately stood up grabbing everything he would need, like a change of clothes so he didn’t look so cop-like and his gun.

“Where are you headed?” Cole asks.

“I just got a lead I have to follow.”

“About Miles?” Kerry asks.

Kyle pauses for a beat. How much of the truth can he tell his friends? “Yeah, it is.”

“We’re coming with,” Cole starts to stand.

“No! I -uh. I don’t need backup,” Kyle says.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I got this.”

“Let us know if you do need backup,” Kerry calls after him before shooting Cole a confused expression.

~~~~

Kyle waited awkwardly for a few minutes on a bench outside the given address before an unmarked black van pulled up. His heart racing as flashbacks to the security footage played in his mind.

The side door opens and Kyle relaxes as something definitely scarier is revealed. The man in the black skull mask says, “We be the cavalry.” And offers his hand to the detective.

Kyle shuffles into the van. There’s a bench at the back of the van, and a desk with a large computer on it in front of the other side door. There’s a cleanly pressed man in front of the computer who doesn’t even glance Kyle’s way. There’s a red-headed woman driving the van. A man with short curly hair and a brown leather jacket in the back with him, and a tall dark haired man in the passenger seat. 

Kyle had been a cop on the force long enough to recognize most of the people in the car. 

The man in the passenger seat, the only one he doesn’t recognize immediately, starts going over the plan. Even though he might not recognize his face, there is something painfully familiar about his voice, “You?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry for threatening you yesterday. But I gotta look out for the safety of my crew. Let’s start over,” he held his hand out to the back seat, “I’m Treyco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted Kyle to help save the day, I didn’t anticipate him getting his own whole chapter but I’m certainly not upset. And maybe I’ll actually finish this before my birthday, with everything closed for quarantine. Oh and I finally finished the notebook I’ve been writing this in, and now I can start a new one!


	30. Trust Issues

Pruitt drones on and on about how great he is for kidnapping two Fakes and finding the Viper’s weakness. If Miles wasn’t literally being tortured, you’d call this monologuing torture.

Miles was nearly more bruise than he was person at this point. He might leave here with more scars than skin, but he would leave here.

Pruitt walks closer to you, taunting. You wait. You stare him in the eye as he grabs your chin and leans in. You can smell his rancid breath. He’s close enough now. As quickly as you can, without alerting him to your plan, you reel your head back and smash your forehead into his nose. 

He reels back, “You bitch!” He checks his hands for blood before backhanding you across the face. He had so many rings on his hand, it took a solid minute to regain your bearings.

“I guess we haven’t been hitting hard enough to break her,” Pruitt turned on his heel, leaving his goons in the room, keeping their distance from you.

How many carts did this guy have in his torture dungeon? Pruitt walks through the door pushing another cart. This one with a large machine on top. He wheels over to Miles and places electrode pads on his arms. “I’ll start right here. I don’t want to kill you just yet, pig.”

He pushes a button on the machine and Miles cries out, whole body tensing as the electricity coursed through him. “Oh, that was fun,” Pruitt says as Miles catches his breath. Pruitt removes the electrodes from Miles’ arms and places them on either side of his face.

Pruitt stalks his way back to the machine, but before he can push the button again to send the shock through Miles’ skull, the doors are blown off their hinges, and standing in the falling dust is the Vagabond.

Suddenly all the tears you’d been holding back like a dam broke, streaming down your cheeks in heaving sobs as you hear heavy foot steps and punches being thrown. You know this little weasel is child’s play to anyone who isn’t already tied up. Especially when paired with a cackle that jerks your attention.

Quickly pocketing his detonator, Mogar let’s loose rounds of bullets and “fuck you”s. Crazed eyes as he quickly ends the two thugs in the room. The Vagabond on top of Pruitt having quickly taken the upper hand against the spineless dick.

Once the three men were incapacitated, you see more of your crew as Ryan unties you and Michael grabs Miles. Trevor rushes over to help Michael haul Miles’ slumped form, and Ryan whispers calming things in your ear. “We’ve got everyone.” “They’re all gone.” “You and Miles are safe.” “You did good.”

You are in quite a daze until you see the moonlight from the open door. “How did you find us so fast?”

“Well, I think this is the person you should be thanking,” Ryan says as you follow his gesture to an unexpected face holstering his gun.

“Kyle?” You question.

“He was the one who noticed something was wrong.”

Kyle runs over to you as soon as he sees you out the main entrance. “Are you ok?” He asks.

The tears break through again, and you grab Kyle. “Thank you so much,” you say into his chest. “We’re alive.” But both your gazes drift over to the unconscious mass between Michael and Trevor.

“We’ll get him to a hospital, don’t worry,” Trevor says, laying Miles down in the back of the van, as Lindsay starts it up.

“We aren’t going to a safe house?” You ask as you pile in to the backseat. You and Kyle on either side of Miles, ready to support him for the drive.

“He’s a civilian, he can go to the hospital,” Trevor says.

“Besides,” Gavin pipes up from his computer, “The hospital is closer than any of our safe houses, and better equipped for all this.”

~~~~

When the hospital workers see a badly beaten man dropped off from a black van, they swarm over to see what happened. You and Kyle are holding Miles and explain the situation as vaguely as you can. “This is Detective Miles Luna, he was just taken captive by a mob boss named Bram Pruitt. He was tortured, but he’s still alive.”

A crew of hospital staff rush him straight into the back and tell you two to wait in the lounge. You and Kyle collapse into the uncomfortable waiting room chairs.

“I’m not sure I can forgive you for this, and I definitely don’t trust you,” Kyle says softly.

“That’s fair,” you respond. “But in the defense, if Miles would have let me know he was a cop a week ago, none of this would have happened.”

“I don’t think that’s a comparable thing. You kill people.” The waiting room was completely empty except for you and Kyle. Even the secretary was in the back to help with Miles.

“We both get paid to kill people,” you shrug.

“That’s,” he falters. “No.”

“I was on the right side of the law once, too. All that changed is what country I’m in, and now I get to pick my own clothes.”

“I don’t know about that. We’ve been on the force for a long time, and neither of us had been kidnapped and tortured until you came into our lives.”

“Fine, you don’t have to trust me, but Miles does. And as much as this broke me, leaving him now isn’t going to keep either of you safer.”

“Broke you?” Kyle eyes you and your lack of injury.

“I’ve been beaten up, tortured, shot, burned, anything you can imagine has been done to me since I was deployed. The first few times were obviously the worst. I broke and gave my captors everything I knew. But after years of that, eventually the pain doesn’t mean anything. They hurt Miles to get to me. They didn’t care about him. All he was, was The Viper’s weakness. If I hadn’t held my tongue. If I hadn’t prolonged his torture, they would have killed him.” You don’t notice the tears, until one drips off your chin. “I know this is my fault.”

You spend a long time in silence. You even doze off under Kyle’s arm. He calls his girlfriend at some point, waking you up. He assures her that everything is fine, but he’s spending the night in the hospital waiting room. She doesn’t need to worry and rush over here. He fills her in on some of the details. Miles should recover, at least physically. 

When he hangs up, you ask, “But was it a little bit fun?”

“What?”

“Playing the wrong side to save your friend?”

“Texting the Vagabond was the scariest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve been in front of his gun before.” He pauses, and you nod encouragingly. “But when I met up with them, it was crazy organized. I’ve never been a part of something that ran so smoothly. The Fakes! Fucking organized? The Golden Boy had the blue prints of the building y’all were in. Watching Mogar and the Vagabond work together was like watching a choreographed dance. Treyco giving out instructions and jobs on the fly. And everyone listened! We don’t run that smoothly. Now I know how they’ve evaded us for so long. It’s not really the chaos it seems.”

You just watch and listen as Kyle goes on about your crew. “I guess in your defense, sometimes it is just chaos.”

A nurse walks out of the ER doors and heads straight over to you. No one else had entered the waiting room since you dropped Miles off. “He’s stable now, but heavily sedated. Are either of you immediate family.”

“Yes. He’s my brother,” you both lie in unison. The nurse eyes you skeptically, but lets you back to see Miles anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. I don't know how to write screaming matches. I make everyone too level headed about arguments, and this is just like a discussion. I'm not mad about it by any means, but like, this rational discussion was not what I had originally planned. But I think you're just too tired to fight with Kyle right after being kidnapped, you know?


	31. And in the End

When Miles woke up, the bright lights scared him until he could take in his surroundings properly. He was laying down, not strapped to a chair. Under a blanket, not in that freezing basement. There was a steady beeping. His eyes got used to the lights and he saw his best friend and girl friend passed out in chairs next to his bed.

Smiling hurt his face but that couldn’t stop him. He was alive and you and Kyle were by his side. Miles tries to call your name, but his throat is still sore from yelling, and all he can do is cough.

You and Kyle are startled awake by the coughing fit, and rush to his bedside. “Kyle,” Miles says, “You didn’t have to come to the hospital for me.”

“Of course I did, dude.”

You look at Kyle, then back to Miles. “Kyle did a hell of a lot more than come to the hospital for you, babe. He’s the one who noticed that you were gone. He told the Fakes to look for us.”

Miles’ eyes don’t leave Kyle’s face and you see tears brimming in the corners of his eyes as he grabs Kyle’s hand to pull him into a hug.

~~~~

You spend most of the next week in the hospital with Miles. Kyle still has work, so he stops by whenever he has some time off. His girlfriend even visits more often than not. She’s very sweet. The kind of person you could see yourself befriending in another, less criminal, life.

Cole and Kerry visit regularly, and Miles’ boss even shows up once. Blaine and Jon stop by on separate occasions to see him. Your friends rotate through to make sure you are taking care of yourself. Obviously, they want to make sure Miles was doing better, but they wanted to make sure you were eating and showering, and that you were dealing with all the trauma as well.

Once Miles was able to spend more than an hour or two conscious, he set up a video chat with his family. Some of them had been calling him here and there, but they mostly couldn’t visit all the way from New Austin.

He probably looks worse several days into healing than he did the day after. The bruises turning a jaundice-yellow. Other injuries starting to bloom a deep purple. He warns you that him mom is going to freak out when she sees his face.

He’d gotten one nasty slash across his face that was not looking pretty as it healed, but would eventually be a pretty badass scar to scare the newbie cops.

You take Miles’ hand as he introduces you to his parents and everyone else on his laptop screen. They ask all about you, prying questions his family is supposed to ask you, and you answer as honestly as you can. They even grill you about your intentions with Miles, and, like, obviously you’re just there for that fat detective salary.

~~~~

One week under observation in the hospital before he’s allowed to go home. Covered in healing cuts and bruises. A cast on his leg and crutches in hand. You wheel Miles out of the hospital and to one of your more practical cars. He sleeps most of the trip home, even as you stop by a pharmacy to get his meds.

There’s a note on his door about fumigations for the next two weeks and to evacuate the apartment by the next day.

“Do you want to stay with me? I can help you pack up.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to. But why not?”

Thus began a harried attempt at packing up as much of Miles’ stuff as you could pretty much by yourself. This went on for nearly 30 min before Lindsay calls to check up on you. She insists on making a day of it. She’ll even buy pizza.

“Lindsay, he’s not moving in, it’s just two weeks,” you are folding clothes as Miles hands them to you with your phone perched on your shoulder just like your dentist told you not to when you were younger.

“Well, why not?” Lindsay asks.

“What do you mean ‘why not’?”

“Why not move in together?”

“Because we’ve only known each other like a week and a half.”

“Relationships aren’t measured by a clock, but by the hardships you face together.”

You nod slowly even though she can’t see, “How long have you been holding onto that?”

“Since you two were kidnapped, dummy. I’ll make some calls and we can have a whole moving crew over and he can be moved out in a jiff.”

“Please don’t,” Is all you get out before the line clicks off. Miles is also on the phone, arguing. When he hangs up, you tell him that Lindsay is inviting people over to help you move despite your objections.

“Oh, cool. So is KT.”

Your friends start showing up; Lindsay and Michael first, followed closely by Kyle and his girlfriend. Gavin and Jeremy, who is solidly healing as well. Cole and Kerry, then Blaine. Followed by Fiona and the twins. Jack and Geoff roll in right before Ryan. You shoot a look at Ryan, but refrain from comment on him arriving with Jon.

Miles’ apartment wasn’t meant to hold this many people. But they had brought supplies; boxes, tape, trash bags, newspaper, and trucks and trailers.

Not two whole hours later, everything Miles wanted to take had been packed up into a caravan of mismatched vehicles. He left behind a good amount of his stuff. He didn’t need to take his full-sized bed when you had a king. He didn’t need his second-hand couch in your manicured apartment.

After one last sweep, the caravan moves across the city, to your apartment. Boxes, and side tables, and a gaming chair, and trash bags are loaded onto your elevator, while Lindsay orders pizza for 20 people.

By the time the pizza arrived, the assembly line of friends had moved every last nicknack into your apartment. Trevor’s old room was a maze of boxes, that would be unpacked eventually. Bags full of clothes piled precariously framing your entertainment center. 

You go to the kitchen to uncork another bottle of wine, followed by Trevor grabbing a case of beer from next to your fridge. “You know?” you say before Trevor leaves, “I’ve been doing some math.”

“Like, voluntarily?” he questions.

You shoot him a look, “I’ve been thinking about retiring.”

“You’re thinking of leaving us? For a man?”

“A little, but maybe. Maybe I need to step away.”

He lets out a nervous chuckle, “I don’t know what we’re going down three, but I guess we’ll figure it out.”

“Three?”

“You’re not the only one considering retirement.” He looks at Geoff. “He and Jack are ready to settle down, too.”

“Really?”

He nods, “We’ll miss working with you if you do, and we’ll always welcome you back if you change your mind.” He leaves the kitchen to distribute more beer.

You finally focus on uncorking and also make it back out to the fray to top up anyone with a cup. The night would have stayed nice and civilized if those heathens hadn’t broken out Mario Kart.

~~~~

The night eventually dies down, and people either retire to their own place, or find somewhere to crash around your apartment. The smart people got to the, now, cramped spare bedroom before anyone else. 

You are already laying in bed, reading something on your phone when Miles walks in from the bathroom to join you. “I promise, I’ll pay my share of everything. Utilities, rent. Everything.”

You look at him and smile, “Aww, you’re so cute.”

“Hey! I’m serious.”

“Oh, babe. No. I own this whole building. You don’t have to worry about rent.”

“What?”

“Do you think I got all my money illegally?”

“Kind of.”

You chuckle and kiss him good night. “I think I’m done getting my money illegally anyway.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, you got one career criminal off the streets, I think I’m going to retire.” 

~~~~

You don’t know if this is ‘happily ever after.’ You don’t know if he’s your forever. You’d like that, for sure. But you don’t know what the future will bring you. You don’t even know if your retirement will stick. But you do know, that if this isn’t forever, this is your happily for now. And that’s all that really matters, especially in Los Santos, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit! I finished it!! The ending is a bit different than originally, but I like both endings. I probably won't do a third draft lol. Here's to starting new stories!


End file.
